UGSB    LIBRARY 


WORKS  OF  PASCAL. 


THE 

THOUGHTS,  LETTERS,  AM)  OPUSCULES 

or 

BLAISE   PASCAL 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH  BY 

O.  W.  WIGHT,  A.  M. 

WITH   INTRODUCTORY   NOTICES 

an 
NOTES  FROM  ALL  THE  COMMENTATORS 


BOSTON 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 
Btowcrtj*  {Dteetf, 


Copyright,  1869  and  1887, 
BT  0.  W.  WIGHT. 


CONTENTS. 


MM 

EDITOR'S  PREFACE 7 

EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS 15 

GENIUS  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PASCAL 88 

PASCAL  AS  A  PHILOSOPHIC  SKEPTIC 85 

PLAN  OF  THE  THOUGHTS 189 

THOUGHTS  OF  PASCAL 149 

LETTERS  OF  PASCAL 411 

OPUSCULES  OF  PASCAL  ..  ..  451 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 


Tms  volume  contains :  1st,  an  account  of  the  "  Ya- 
rious  Editions  of  Pascal's  Thoughts ;"  2d,  an  essay  on 
the  "  Genius  and  Writings  of  Pascal ;"  3d,  «« Pascal 
considered  as  a  Philosophic  Skeptic  ;"  4th,  the 
"Thoughts  of  Pascal;"  5th,  the  "Letters  of  Pascal;" 
6th,  the  "  Opuscules  of  Pascal." 

The  introductory  paper,  on  the  "  Various  Editions 
of  Pascal,"  we  have  translated  from  M.  Charles 
Louandre's  lengthy  preface  to  his  edition  of  Pascal's 
Thoughts,  etc.  It  gives  a  complete  and  interesting 
history  of  the  earlier  and  later  editions,  and  to  it 
we  refer  for  the  considerations  that  have  led  us  to 
Ibllow  the  arrangement  adopted  by  him. 

The  "  Essay  on  the  Genius  and  Writings  of  Pascal" 
has  been  taken  from  the  Edinburgh  Review,  for  Jan- 
uary, 1847,  and  is  by  Henry  Rogers.  We  have  used 
it  because  it  contains  the  fairest  and  ablest  discussion, 
from  a  religious  point  of  view,  of  Pascal's  philosophic 
skepticism. 

"  Pascal  considered  as  a  Philosophic  Skeptic,"  is 


8  EDITOR'S  PBEFACE. 

by  the  great  French  philosopher,  M.  Victor  Cousiu, 
and  has  been  especially  translated  for  this  edition. 
When  M.  Cousin  published,  in  ,184:9,  a  new  edition 
of  his  "Blaise  Pascal,"  he  answered,  in  a  lengthy 
preface,  those  who  had,  in  the  mean  time,  attacked 
him  for  bringing,  in  the  first  edition,  a  charge  of 
philosophic  skepticism  against  the  ablest  and  most 
saintly  of  the  Port-Royalists.  It  is  this  preface  which 
we  here  reproduce.  Henry  Rogers,  in  his  article  on 
Pascal,  especially  attacks  M.  Cousin,  and  it  is  cer- 
tainly fair  to  give  the  philosopher  a  chance  to  reply. 
These  two  polemics,  thus  brought  face  to  face  with 
each  other,  may  be  taken  as  able  representatives  of 
all  that  has  been  said  on  this  question. 

Of  the  Thoughts  of  Pascal  we  here  give  an  entirely 
new  version.  After  having  carefully  examined  the 
editions  of  Faugere,  Havet,  Asti6,  and  Louandre,  we 
have  adopted  that  of  the  last,  because  it  contains  all 
the  Thoughts,  and  is  neatest  and  most  tasty  in  ar- 
rangement. It  also  contains  judiciously  selected  notes 
from  all  the  distinguished  writers  and  commentators 
on  Pascal,  and  these  notes,  together  with  M.  Louan- 
dre's  own  notes,  we  have  transferred. 

In  translating  the  Thoughts,  we  have  constantly 
aimed  to  express  in  English  precisely  what  Pascal 
expressed  in  French.  "We  fully  agree  with  Pro- 
fessor Felfcon,  that  "we  are  not  among  those  who 


think  a  paiaphrase  is  a  translation.  We  do  not 
think  it  the  translator's  duty  to  give  us  what  he 
supposes  his  author  would  have  written,  had  he  writ 
ten  in  English,  for  this  is  precisely  what  the  trans- 
lator can  never  know.  It  is  his  plain  duty,  as  we 
conceive,  to  let  us  know  what  his  author  has  actually 
written,  as  a  German,  or  a  Frenchman,  or  whatever 
the  case  may  be ;  not  violating,  of  course,  the  genius 
of  the  language  into  which  he  translates,  while  doing 
BO.  "We  do  not  admit  that  the  English  language  is 
incompetent  to  this  task.  It  is  rich  enough  to  cope 
with  the  difficulties  of  any  foreign  author,  who  has 
a  fund  of  solid  thought  sufficient  to  sustain  a  faithful 
translation.  Taking  the  whole  range  of  the  English 
language  and  literature,  from  the  racy  primeval  ex- 
pressions of  Chaucer  to  the  affluent  harmonies  of 
Spenser, — the  all-embracing,  all-describing,  all-expres- 
sive forms  of  Shakspeare, — the  majestic  music  of  Mil- 
ton, which  made  his  mother  tongue  search  her  coffers 
round  and  round, — to  say  nothing  of  the  thousand-fold 
varieties  of  later  prose-writers  and  poets,  we  have  no 
doubt  that  all  the  phases  of  human  thought,  from  the 
broadest  farce  up  to  the  subljmest  conceptions  ot 
genius,  may  be  furnished  with  suitable  expression  from 
the  store-houses  of  our  mother-English  speech." l 


1  North  American  Review,  October,  1841,  pp.  409-10. 


10  EDITOK'S  PEEFAOE. 

As  to  previous  translations,  but  two  need  any  at- 
tention here.  The  version  of  Edward  Craig,  A.  M. 
Oxon.,  is  now  worthless,  because  the  French  edi- 
tion from  which  he  translated  is  now  worthless 
The  translation  of  George  Pearce,  Esq.,  published 
by  the  Longmans,  in  1849,  is  at  best  a  weak  para- 
phrase of  Pascal.  He  has  constantly  missed  the 
meaning  of  the  original,  and  has  omitted  every  thing 
savoring  of  Catholicism  in  Pascal.  "The  very  few 
passages,"  he  says  (Introduction  to  Pascal's  Miscel- 
lanies, p.  xli.),  "  which  incidentally  occur  among 
these  papers,  containing  either  direct  advocacy,  or 
tacit  approval,  of  some  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Romish 
Church,  are  omitted."  We  can  conscientiously  say 
that  our  version  is  the  first  complete  and  honest 
translation  of  Pascal's  immortal  Thoughts  into  the 
English  language.  Not  only  have  we  adhered  closely 
to  the  original,  but  have  put  in  brackets  any  addi- 
tional word  or  phrase  necessary  to  complete  the 
Bense  in  another  tongue.  That,  however,  we  have 
nowhere  missed  a  shade  of  meaning,  in  Thoughts 
fragmentary  at  best,  and  sometimes  so  obscure  as 
to  be  almost  enigmatical;  that  we  ha^e  nowhere, 
in  a  very  literal  rendering,  used  a  form  of  expression 
peculiarly  Gallic,  is  too  much  to  hope,  too  much  to 
be  demanded.  We  devoutly  pray  Heaven  that  these 
sublime  Thoughts  of  one  of  the  greatest  souls  vouch 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  11 

aafed  to  earth,  may  inspire  many  a  reader  with  hum- 
ble reverence  for  religious  truth. 

For  a  translation  of  the  Letters  of  Pascal  we  are 
indebted  to  Miss  Mary  L.  Booth,  whose  elegant 
version  of  M.  Cousin's  "Madame  de  Chevreuse"  ia 
well  known.  In  the  arrangement  of  the  Letters  we 
have  followed  the  edition  of  Astie".  No  French  edi- 
tion contains  all  the  letters.  In  our  edition  we  be- 
lieve the  collection  is  complete. 

The  Opuscules — among  which  are  some  of  the 
finest  productions  of  Pascal — have  been  translated 
from  the  text  of  Faugere.  The  arrangement  is  that 
of  Louandre. 

We  take  leave  of  Pascal  with  regret.  Many  holy 
hours  we  have  spent  in  his  company,  and  have 
thanked  the  Omniscient  for  such  a  revelation  in  man 
of  moral  and  intellectual  force.  We  regard  Pascal 
not  only  as  the  greatest  genius  but  as  the  holiest  man 
that  France  has  produced.  To  the  young  men  of 
America  we  commend  a  writer  in  whom  greatness 
and  rectitude  of  mind  were  combined  in  an  equa, 
degree. 

O.  W.  WIGHT. 

SKPTEMBER,  1859. 


EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS, 


INTRODUCTION    TO   THE  "VARIORUM"   EDITION    OF 
M.  CHARLES    LOUANDRE. 


THE  history  of  these  editions  may  be  divided  into  three  dis- 
tinct periods,  extending:  1"  From  1670  to  1779;  2°  From 
1779  to  1842  ;  3°  From  1842  to  1854. 

I. 

It  is  known  that  Pascal,  on  renouncing  alike  the  world 
and  science,  formed  the  project  of  writing  a  great  work  on 
Christianity.1  He  labored  long  upon  it,  but  wholly  within 
himself,  and,  if  we  may  rely  upon  the  testimony  of  his  contem- 
poraries, it  was  only  during  the  four  last  years  of  his  life  that 
he  committed  fragments  of  it  to  paper.  "  The  greatest  care 
and  the  principal  occupation  of  those  about  him,"  it  is  said 
in  the  Preface  of  1669,  "were  to  keep  him  from  writing, 
and  even  from  speaking  of  aught  that  required  any  struggle 
of  mind,  and  to  converse  only  of  things  indifferent  and  incapa- 
ble of  fatiguing  him Nevertheless,  when  there 

occurred  to  him  any  new  thoughts,  any  views,  any  ideas,  or 
even  any  forms  of  expression  that  he  foresaw  might  at  some 

1  It  will  be  seen  further  on,  in  the  extract  from  tit*  Preface  of  the  edition 
»f  1669,  how,  a  dozen  or  thirteen  years  before  his  death,  Pascal  developed 
Mfore  BO  me  friends  the  plan  of  this  work. 


16  EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS. 

future  time  avail  him  in  his  design,  since  he  was  not  then 
in  a  condition  to  apply  himself  so  closely  as  when  he  was  in 
good  health,  nor  to  impress  them  upon  his  mind  and  memory, 
he  preferred  to  make  some  note  of  it  in  writing,  in  order  not 
to  forget  it ;  and  for  this  purpose  he  took  the  first  piece  of  pa- 
per that  he  found  at  hand,  on  which  he  put  down  his  thought 
in  few  words,  and  often  even  in  abbreviation,  for  he  wrote  onh 
for  himself;  for  which  reason  he  contented  himself  with  do- 
ing it  very  slightly,  in  order  not  to  fatigue  his  mind,  and 
set  down  only  the  things  necessary  to  recall  his  views  and 
ideas. 

"  Such  is  the  manner  in  which  the  Thoughts  were  written ; 
and  I  believe  no  one  will  find  any  difficulty  in  judging  by  these 
slight  beginnings  and  feeble  essays  of  an  invalid,  which  he  had 
written  only  for  himself,  to  recall  trains  of  thought  that  he 
feared  to  lose,  which  he  had  never  reviewed  or  retouched,  what 
the  complete  work  would  have  been  if  he  had  been  able  to  re- 
cover his  health  perfectly,  and  give  to  it  the  finishing  touch, — 
he  who  was  so  skilful  in  lucid  exposition  and  clear  arrangement, 
who  gave  such  a  peculiar,  noble,  and  striking  turn  to  every 
thing  he  wished  to  say,  who  intended  to  bestow  more  labor 
upon  this  work  than  upon  all  that  he  had  ever  made,  who  in- 
tended to  devote  to  it  all  the  strength  of  mind  and  all  the  tal- 
ents that  God  had  given  him,  and  for  the  completion  of  which 
he  often  said  that  he  needed  ten  years  of  health. 

"  As  it  was  known  that  Pascal  had  the  design  of  producing 
a  work  on  religion,  great  care  was  taken  after  his  death  to  col- 
lect all  the  writings  he  had  made  on  this  subject.  They  were 
found  all  filed  together  in  different  bundles,  but  without  any 
order,  without  any  sequence,  because,  as  I  have  already  re- 
marked, they  were  only  the  first  expressions  of  his  thoughts 
which  he  wrote  on  bits  of  paper  as  they  occurred  to  his  mind. 

"The  first  method  that  occurred  to  the  mind,  and  that 
•»hich  was  doubtless  the  easiest,  was  to  have  them  printed  just 
is  they  came  in  the  state  in  which  they  were  found.  But  it 
was  soon  judged  that  by  such  a  procedure  nearly  all  the  frui 
would  be  lost  that  might  be  hoped  for  from  the  work ;  because 


EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS.  17 

the  most  perfect,  most  coherent,  the  clearest  and  most  extended 
thoughts  were  intermingled  with,  and,  as  it  were,  lost  among  so 
many  others  that  were  imperfect,  obscure,  half  digested,  and 
even  at  times  unintelligible  to  any  other  than  to  him  who  had 
written  them.  Hence,  there  was  every  reason  to  believe  that 
gome  would  rebut  others,  and  that  the  volume,  uselessly  swelled 
with  so  many  imperfect  thoughts,  might  be  regarded  only  as  a 
confused  mass,  without  order,  without  sequence,  and  productive 
of  no  good. 

"  There  was  another  way  of  giving  these  writings  to  the 
public,  which  was,  to  prepare  them  beforehand,  to  elucidate 
obscure  thoughts,  to  complete  those  that  were  imperfect,  and, 
taking  the  design  of  M.  Pascal  in  all  these  fragments,  to  sup- 
ply in  some  sort  the  work  that  he  wished  to  produce.  This 
way  would  certainly  have  been  the  most  perfect ;  but  it  would 
also  have  been  very  difficult  to  execute  it  well.  Nevertheless, 
the  matter  was  a  long  time  under  consideration,  and  in  fact  the 
work  was  commenced.  But  it  was  finally  resolved  to  reject  it 
as  well  as  the  first,  because  it  was  considered  almost  impossible 
to  enter  fully  into  the  thought  and  design  of  the  author,  and 
especially  of  an  author  deceased,  and  because  it  would  not  have 
been  giving  the  work  of  Pascal,  but  a  work  quite  different. 

"  Thus,  to  shun  the  inconveniences  of  both  these  methods  of 
publishing  these  writings,  an  intermediate  method  has  been 
chosen  and  followed  in  this  collection.  Among  this  great 
number  of  thoughts,  only  those  have  been  chosen  which  have 
appeared  the  clearest  and  most  complete,  and  they  have  been 
given  as  they  were  found,  without  any  addition  or  change,  ex- 
cept that,  while  they  were  without  sequence,  without  connec- 
tion, and  confusedly  scattered  from  side  to  side,  they  have  been 
put  in  some  sort  of  order,  and  those  on  the  same  subjects  have 
been  arranged  under  the  same  titles,  and  all  the  others  that 
were  too  obscure  or  too  imperfect  have  been  suppressed." 

We  shall  see  further  on  what  value  is  to  be  attached  to  the 
Assertion,  without  any  addition  or  change,  and  what  were,  for 
the  most  part,  those  thoughts  either  too  obscure  or  loo  imperfect^ 
which  the  severe  criticism  of  the  first  editors  had  put  aside. 


18  EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS. 

The  prlnceps  edition  of  1669  was  followed  by  two  other  edi- 
tions, the  last  of  which  appeared  in  1671.  All  three  are,  as  to 
text,  perfectly  identical.  In  1678  there  was  a  fourth  re-im- 
pression, to  which  were  added  a  few  new  thoughts ;  finally,  in 
1687,  this  last  edition  was  reprinted,  with  a  curious  opuscule, 
whose  publication  had  been  delayed  by  the  Jansenist  contro- 
versy. This  opuscule  was  the  Life  of  Blaise  Pascal,  by  his  sis- 
ter, Madame  Perier.1 

Save  the  unimportant  additions  made  in  1678,  the  Thoughts 
remained,  until  the  eighteenth  century,  what  they  were  in  the 
first  edition.  But  in  1727,  Colbert,  Bishop  of  Montpellier, 
in  a  letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Soissons,  printed,  in  a  very  inexact 
manner  however,  some  new  fragments  on  the  miracles.  Fi- 
nally, in  1728,  Father  Desmolets,  of  the  Oratory,  published 
under  the  title  of  Posthumous  Works,  or  Sequel  of  Pascals 
Thoughts,  a  considerable  number  of  fragments  till  then  un- 
published ;  he  also  gave,  in  the  Continuation  des  Memoires  de 
Litterature,  a  morceau  entitled  Conversation  of  Pascal  and  Sacy 
on  the  reading  of  Epictetus  and  Montaigne. 

Thus,  as  time  advanced  from  the  seventeenth  century,  the 
literary  heritage  of  our  author  increased,  while  by  the  success- 
ive publications  that  we  have  just  indicated,  the  first  editions 
were  rendered  more  and  more  incomplete. 

"The  Thoughts?  says  M.  Sainte-Beuve,  "had  remained 
unanimously  accepted  and  unattacked,  till  Voltaire  opened 
the  breach  in  1734.  'Would  you  counsel  me,'  wrote  Voltaire 
at  this  date  to  Formont,  '  to  add  to  the  Lettres  philosophiques 
some  detached  reflections  on  the  Thoughts  of  Pascal  ?  I  have 
long  desired  to  combat  this  giant.  There  is  no  warrior  so  well 
armed  that  he  may  not  be  pierced  in  the  weak  point  of  his  har- 
ness ;  and  I  confess  to  you  that  if,  in  spite  of  my  weakness,  I 
could  give  some  blows  to  this  vanquisher  of  so  many  minds, 


1  See  for  more  ample  details  on  the  editions  of  1678  and  1687,  and  on  the 
lanses  that  delayed  the  impression  of  Madame  Pe'rier's  Life,  "  Pensees,frag- 
nents  et  Itttres  de  Blaise  Pa-seal,"  par  M.  Prosper  Faugere,  Paris,  1844,  in-8» 
t.  i.  Introduction,  xxiii.  et.  »eq. 


EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS.  19 

»cd  break  the  yoke  which  he  has  imposed  upon  them,  I  should 
almost  dare  to  say  with  Lucretius : 

"  Quare  superstHio1  pedibus  subjecta  vicissim 
Obteritur,  DOS  exaequat  victoria  ccelo." 

" '  Moreover,  I  shall  proceed  with  caution,  and  criticise  no 
passages  that  are  so  connected  with  our  holy  religion  that  one 
cannot  tear  the  skin  of  Pascal  without  making  Christianity 
bleed.'  This  was  the  first  signal  of  reaction,  for  we  cannot 
honor  with  a  serious  appellation  the  chicaneries  of  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Einbrun,  M.  de  Tencin  (1733),  and  the  foolish  accu- 
sation of  Father  Hardouin,  who,  in  his  book  of  Atheists 
unveiled  (Athei  detecti),  ranked  Pascal  among  them  in  excel- 
lent company." 

Things  remained  in  the  same  state  till  1776  ;  at  this  date, 
Condorcet  undertook  to  unite  in  a  new  and  general  edition 
what  the  editors  of  1670,  those  of  1678,  the  Bishop  of  Mont- 
pellier,  and  Father  Desmolets,  had  in  turn  given  to  the  pub- 
lic, adding  to  these  scattered  pieces  some  new  fragments, 
among  others  the  treatise  entitled  Of  the  geometrical  spirit, 
accompanying  the  whole  with  an  Eloge.  In  spite  of  his  eleva- 
tion of  mind,  Condorcet  forgot,  in  reprinting  Pascal,  a  very 
common  and  simple  thing — that  the  first  obligation  of  an 
editor  is  to  respect  the  text  of  a  writer  he  publishes.  In  order 
to  adapt  himself  to  the  taste  of  his  times,  and  perhaps  con- 
vinced that  he  was  heightening  the  glory  of  Pascal,  he  sup- 
pressed a  multitude  of  passages,  and  the  finest,  especially  of 
those  wherein  the-  author  of  the  Thoughts  shows  himself  most 
eloquently,  most  profoundly  Christian.  Voltaire  applauded  this 
profanation,  and,  adopting  in  his  turn  this  mutilated  Pascal  to 
caress  and  rend  him  at  the  same  time,  gave,  in  1778,  a  new 
edition,  accompanied  by  a  commentary,  that  is,  for  the  most 
Bart,  but  a  bitter  and  unjust  criticism.2 

1  Rettigio  in  the  text. 

*  Voltaire  comprehended  that  Pascal  was  the  great  rival  who  interfered 
with  philosophy,  and  he  attacked  him  face  to  face.  Why  did  he  attack 
Pascal  rather  than  Bossuet,  or  any  other  ?  This  is,  in  my  opinion,  a  tin 


20  EDITIONS    OF  lASCAI/S   THOUGHTS. 

Thus,  in  a  space  of  a  hundred  and  eight  years,  that  is,  from 
1670  to  1778,  Pascal  had  successively  for  editors  Port-Royal 
and  his  own  family,  the  Bishop  of  Montpellier  and  Father 
Desmolets,  Condorcet  and  Voltaire ;  and  between  these  two 
extreme  dates,  he  was  equally  and  pitilessly  disfigured,  cor- 
rected, and  mutilated,  in  the  name  of  Jansenist  piety  and 
philosophic  skepticism.1 

n. 

In  the  year  1779  appeared  a  new  edition  of  Pascal,  that 
comprised  at  once  the  scientific  and  literary  works,  and  may 
be  regarded  as  an  attempt  at  reaction,  tut  a  reaction  still 
timid,  against  the  spirit  by  which  Voltaire  and  Condorcet  had 
been  inspired.  This  edition,  made  by  the  Abbe  Bossut,  repro- 
duced, with  the  pieces  previously  published,  the  text  of  the 
edition  of  1678,  and  contained,  besides,  new  thoughts  and 
fragments  hitherto  unknown.  It  was,  doubtless,  the  most 
complete  and  the  most  worthy  of  all  the  editions  that  had 
appeared  up  to  that  time ;  it  became  an  authority,  and  served 
as  a  model  for  subsequent  re-impressions, — in  1783,  by  Father 
Andre ;  in  1803,  by  Renouard ;  in  1819,  by  Lefevre ;  and  yet 
the  edition  of  Bossut,  like  the  editions  of  1669  and  1678, 
fails  to  give  the  true  and  authentic  text  of  Pascal. 

A  modest  scholar  who  lived  at  Dijon,  occupied  with  litera- 
ture, without  seeking  to  make  a  noise  and  gain  renown,  first 
recognized,  as  early  as  the  beginning  of  this  century,  that 
all  the  editions  of  Pascal  left  very  much  to  be  desired ;  and, 
without  having  recourse  to  the  autograph  manuscript,  he 
nevertheless  attempted  to  recover  the  primitive  plan  of  Pas- 
cal. This  editor,  to  whose  efforts  sufficient  justice  has  not 

gular  honor,  and  proves  that  Pascal  is  at  the  very  heart  of  Christianitv.- 
Sainte-£ewce. 

1  Salnte-Beuve  remarks  the  fact,  that  no  one  among  the  French  ^lergj 
defended  Pascal  against  Voltaire,  and  that  the  only  champion  who  entered 
&e  lists  in  favor  cf  the  author  of  the  Thoughts  was  a  Protestant,  son  of 
fcc  refugee  Boullier,  who  ansvered  Voltaire  with  vigor  and  gravity.— PoH- 
Royal,  t.  iii.  p.  822,  et  seq. 


EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS.  21 

been  rendered,  was  M.  Fran  tin,  who  published,  in  1835,  the 
Thoughts  in  a  new  order ;  and,  in  an  excellent  Preliminary 
Discourse,  advanced  just  and  sagacious  ideas.  The  classifi- 
cation adopted  by  M.  Frantin  is  in  many  respects  question- 
able, and  so  much  the  more  arbitrary,  as  the  editor  had  not 
the  indications  of  the  manuscript  to  guide  him ;  moreover,  as, 
tor  the  first  edition,  he  was  not  acquainted  with  the  original 
text,  he  allowed  faulty  readings  to  remain ;  but  we  should  none 
the  less  render  this  justice  to  him,  that  he  first  designated  the 
necessity  of  a  revision,  and  showed  that  there  was  something 
new  to  be  tried.  This  is  a  merit  which  it  would  be  unjust  to 
contest. 

What  M.  Frantin  had  quietly  attempted  in  1835,  M.  Cousin 
accomplished  with  tclat  in  1842,  in  his  report  to  the  French 
Academy,  on  the  necessity  of  a  new  edition  of  Pascal's  Thoughts.1 

Guided  by  what  might  be  called  the  piety  of  admiration, 
Cousin  investigated  the  origin  and  source  of  the  different 
pieces  which  the  editors  had  successively  given  under  the  title 
of  Thoughts.  He  established  that  those  papers  which  had 
been  found  altogether,  filed  in  different  bundles,  but  without 
any  order  and  sequence,  collected  and  pasted  on  large  sheets, 
had  reached  us  under  the  form  of  a  grand  folio  register  com- 
posed of  four  hundred  and  ninety-one  pages;  that  this  pre- 
cious register,  falling  as  a  heritage  into  the  hands  of  the  Abbe 
Perier,  had  been  deposited  by  him,  in  1711,  in  the  abbey  of 
Saint-Germain  des  Pres,  as  the  following  letter,  which  is  found 
on  the  first  page  of  the  manuscript,  witnesses : 

"  I,  the  undersigned,  priest,  canon  of  the  church  of  Clermont, 
certify  that  the  present  volume,  containing  pages,  the 

first  of  which  begins  in  these  words, 

and  the  last -in  these,  is  composed 

of  small  pieces  of  paper  written  on  one  side,  or  of  loose  leaves 
that  have  been  found  since  the  death  of  M.  Pascal,  my  un- 

1  This  report,  first  printed  in  the  Journal  des  Savants  (April-November, 
.842),  was  afterwards  published  in  book  form.  Paris,  1843.  There  liav« 
oeen  several  editions  of  it. — Ed. 


22  EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS. 

cle,  among  his  papers,  and  are  the  originals  of  the  book  of 
Pascal's  Thoughts,  printed  by  Desprez,  at  Paris,  for  the  first 
time  in  the  year  ,  and  are  written  in  his  hand,  except 

certain  that  he  dictated  to  persons  that  were  with  him ;  which 
volume  I  have  deposited  in  the  library  of  Saint-Germain-des- 
Pres,  to  be  preserved  there  among  the  other  manuscripts  which 
are  there  kept. 

"  Done  at  Paris,  this  twenty-fifth  September,  one  thousand 
ueven  hundred  and  eleven. 

(Signed,)  POKIER." 

From  the  abbey  Saint-Germain  des  Pres,  where  it  remained 
during  the  eighteenth  century,  the  legacy  of  the  Abbe  Perier 
was  removed,  at  the  period  of  the  revolution,  to  the  imperial 
library ;  moreover,  M.  Cousin  has  established  that  there  exist, 
in  the  same  place,  "two  copies  of  the  manuscript  of  the 
Thoughts,  both  belonging  to  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury or  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth ;  .  .  .  .  that,  as 
a  sequel  to  the  Thoughts,  one  of  the  copies  contains  a  number 
of  pieces  relating  to  Pascal,  and  by  Pascal  himself;"  finally, 
that  there  are  also  "  two  very  precious  manuscripts,  one  com- 
ing from  the  Oratory,  the  other  from  the  collection  called 
Supplement  aux  Manuscrits  Francais.  The  first  is  a  folio 
entitled  Manuscrit  concernant  M.  Pascal,  M.  Arntud,  etc^ 
Oratoire,  No.  160;  it  contains  a  great  number  of  important 
and  little  known  pieces  relating  to  Port-Royal,  very  many 
letters  of  those  Messieurs,  among  others  of  Pascal.  The  other 
manuscript  (Supplem.  franc.,  No.  1485)  contains  the  first 
part  of  the  Memoirs  of  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  Perier,  niece 
of  Pascal,  on  all  her  family,  with  the  same  letters  of  Pascal 
which  are  found  in  the  Oratory  manuscript,  and  many  other 
letters  both  of  Pascal  and  of  the  most  illustrious  personages 
of  Port-Royal." 

There  was  here,  it  is  perceived,  a  rich  mine  to  explore ;  but 
it  is  a  most  astonishing  fact,  that  the  existence  of  the  autograph 
manuscript,  or  copies  of  it,  had  long  been  known.  Several 
iditors  had  borrowed  from  the  manuscript  itself,  and  had  ex 


EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS.  23 

tracted  new  Thoughts  from  it ;  and  nevertheless  no  one,  before 
Cousin,  had  thought  of  examining  the  original  text,  or  of  veri- 
fying the  editions  by  this  text.  Honor,  then,  to  M.  Cousin ! 
he  has  been  the  first  to  devote  himself  to  this  verification,  and 
has  thus  restored  to  us  the  true  Pascal. 

m. 

After  having  indicated  the  different  collections  to  which  it 
is  indispensable  to  have  recourse,  M.  Cousin  set  about  demon- 
strating the  necessity  of  a  new  edition.  He  first  examines  the 
publication  of  1670,  made  by  Pascal's  friends, — Arnaud,  Nicole, 
the  Abbe  Perier,  and  the  Due  de  Roannez.  "  Port-Royal,"  he 
says,  "has  treated  Pascal  as  it  had  Saint-Cyran;  and,  after 
having  often  softened  the  Thoughts  in  order  to  render  them 
more  edifying,  it  has  unscrupulously  corrected  the  style  to  ren- 
der it  more  exact,  more  regular,  more  natural,  according  to  the 
model  of  a  natural  and  tranquil  style  which  it  had  formed  for 
itself.  Port-Royal  had  much  esprit,  and,  sometimes,  grandeur ; 
it  has  therefore  spared  both  the  esprit  and  the  grandeur  of 
Pascal ;  but  it  has  laid  ruthless  hands  on  every  thing  that  re- 
vealed what  was  deepest  in  his  thought  and  soul ;  and  as  this 
soul  shines  forth  at  every  line  traced  by  the  dying  hand  of 
Pascal,  Port-Royal  was  compelled  to  correct  and  alter  every 
thing.  I  defy  any  one  to  invent  a  method  of  altering  the  style 
of  a  great  writer  to  which  the  style  of  Pascal  has  not  been  sub- 
jected in  the  hands  of  Port-Royal.  There  was  here  no  Jesuit- 
ical censorship  to  be  feared ;  there  was  no  other  censorship  than 
that  of  genius  by  mediocrity.  I  here  allude  to  the  Abbe  Perier 
and  the  Due  de  Roannez ;  for  there  are,  in  truth,  such  altera- 
tions, that  I  have  not  the  courage  to  impute  them  to  Arnaud 
and  Nicole  "...  alterations  of  words,  alterations  of  ex- 
pression, alterations  of  phrases,  suppressions,  substitutions,  ad- 
ditions, arbitrary  and  absurd  compositions,  sometimes  of  a  para- 
graph, sometimes  of  an  entire  chapter,  by  the  aid  of  phrases 
and  paragraphs  foreign  to  each  other,  and,  what  is  worse,  de- 
compositions, still  more  arbitrary  and  truly  inconceivable,  of 


24  EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS. 

chapters  which,  in  the  manuscript  of  Pascal,  were  perfectly 
connected  in  all  their  parts,  and  profoundly  elaborated." 

Finally,  Cousin  sums  up  his  opinion  on  the  princeps  edi- 
tion in  the  following  words :  "1.  It  omits  a  great  part  of  the 
Thoughts  contained  in  the  autograph  manuscript,  and  it  omita 
precisely  the  most  original;  2.  It  alters  sometimes  in  their 
substance,  it  enervates  almost  always  in  their  form,  the 
Thoughts  that  it  preserves." 

The  Port-Royal  edition,  once  put  aside  as  essentially  defec- 
tive, Cousin  passes  to  the  examination  of  that  of  Bossut, 
and  he  finds  it  with  reason  quite  as  faulty.  "  At  first,"  he 
says,  "  it  has  been  made,  not  according  to  the  autograph  man- 
uscript, which  Bossut  appears  not  to  have  seen,  but  according 
to  the  copies  of  the  Abbe  Guerrier ;  that  is  its  least  defect,  for 
these  copies  are  in  general  faithful.  But,  strange  enough,  Bos- 
sut, who,  in  comparing  the  edition  of  1669  with  the  two  man- 
uscript copies,  could  recognize  at  a  glance  the  differences  and 
re-establish  the  true  readings,  has  preserved  all  the  alterations. 
There  is  still  more  :  all  the  Thoughts  of  the  first  edition,  that 
are  neither  in  the  autograph  manuscript  nor  in  the  two  copies, 
Bossut  preserves,  without  suspecting,  or  at  least  without  giving 
notice  that  they  are  not  there,  and  without  saying  for  what 
motive  he  retains  them." 

To  these  already  grave  reproaches,  Cousin  adds,  and  with 
justice,  a  new  reproach, — that  Bossut  has  destroyed  the  very 
design  of  Pascal  by  dividing  the  Thoughts  into  two  parts : 
one  containing  the  Thoughts  that  relate  to  philosophy,  to  ethics, 
and  to  belles-lettres ;  the  other,  the  Thoughts  immediately  re- 
lating to  religion.  "  This  distinction,"  says  Cousin,  "  cannot 
be  applied  to  thoughts  that  have  all  a  common  aim — the  de- 
fence of  the  Christian  religion  ;  it  gives  to  the  work  of  Pascal 
a  sort  of  literary  physiognomy,  unworthy  of  the  serious  ob- 

iect  proposed  to  itself  by  this  great  mind Every 

thing  in  Pascal  tends  to  religion ;  he  has  not  written  mora, 
and  literary  thoughts,  like  la  Bruyere  and  Vauvenargues,  ana 
all  his  philosophy  is  but  a  demonstration  of  the  vanity  of  phi 
losophy  and  of  the  necessity  of  religion." 


EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS. 


25 


Here  are  already  many  criticisms,  yet  these  are  not  all.  Not 
content  with  having  disfigured  by  unhappy  and  arbitrary  divi- 
sions what  might  be  called  the  generative  idea  of  Pascal's  immor- 
tal fragments,  Bossut  also  introduces  among  them  conversations 
collected  by  third  persons ;  so  that,  instead  of  finding  in  his 
edition  the  Thoughts  such  as  they  really  are,  that  is,  fragments 
of  a  defence  of  Christianity,  we  find  rather  miscellanies  col- 
lected almost  at  hazard  from  the  complete  works  ;  sometimes 
even  pieces  collected  from  memory  by  third  persons,  and  given 
as  being  written  by  Pascal  himself. 

We  will  not  dwell  longer  on  these  details,  but  referring  our 
readers,  for  the  comparative  study  of  the  old  editions  and  the 
autograph  manuscript,  to  the  fine  work  of  M.  Cousin,  we  will 
here  give  some  phrases,  taken  at  random,  that  will  suffice  to 
show,  we  think,  what  Pascal  has  become  in  the  text  of  Port- 
Royal,  of  Bossut,  and  of  all  the  editors  who,  until  1842,  have 
copied  each  other:' 


Pascal:  "For,  in  fine,  what  is 
man  in  nature  ?  A  nothing  in  re- 
spect to  the  infinite,  an  all  in  re- 
spect to  nothing  ;  a  mean  between 
nothing  and  all.  Infinitely  far 
from  comprehending  the  extremes, 
the  end  of  things  and  their  prin- 
ciple are  for  him  inevitably  con- 
cealed in  an  impenetrable  secret. 
He  is  equally  incapable  of  seeing 
the  nothingness  whence  he  is  de- 
rived, and  the  infinite  in  which  he 
is  swallowed  up." 

Pascal:  "Let  man,  having  re- 
turned to  himself,  consider  him- 
self in  comparison  with  all  else 
that  is  ;  let  him  regard  himself  as 
ttrayed  into  this  remote  province 
of  nature  ;  and  let  him,  from  this 
narrow  prison  wherein  he  finds 


Port-Royal:  "  For,  in  fine,  what 
is  man  ?  .  ...  a  mean  between 
nothing  and  all.  He  a  infinitely 
removed  from  the  two  extremes ;  and 
his  being  is  not  less  distant  from  the 
nothingness  whence  he  is  drawn 
than  from  the  infinite  wherein  he 
is  engulfed." 


Port-Royal:  "Let  man,  having 
returned  to  himself,  consider  him- 
self in  comparison  with  all  else 
that  is  ;  let  him  regard  himself  aa 
strayed  into  this  remote  province 
of  nature  ;  and  let  him,  from  what 
shall  seem  to  him  this  narrow  prison 


•  We  borrow  these  comparisons  from  M.  Cousin.    This  great  writer  hav 
efl  first  made  them,  it  is  just  to  leave  him  all  the  credit  of  them. 

2 


26 


EDITIONS   OF   PASCAL  8   THOUGHTS. 


himself  dwelling  (I  mean  the  uni- 
verse), learn  to  estimate  the  earth, 
kingdoms,  cities,  and  himself  at  a 
proper  value." 

Pascal :  "  Who  will  blame,  then, 
the  Christians  for  not  being  able 
to  render  a  reason  for  their  belief, 
•who  profess  a  religion  for  which 
they  cannot  render  a  reason  ?  They 
declare,  in  explaining  it  to  the 
world,  that  it  is  foolishness,  stulti- 
tiam,  and  then  you  complain  that 
they  do  not  prove  it !  If  they 
proved  it,  they  would  not  keep 
their  word  :  it  is  in  lacking  proofs 
that  they  do  not  lack  sense.  Yes  ; 
but  although  this  excuses  those 
who  offer  it  as  such,  and  removes 
from  them  the  blame  of  producing 
it  without  reason,  it  does  not  ex- 
cuse those  who  receive  it' ' 


Pascal:  "We  know  the  truth 
not  only  by  reason,  but  also  by 
the  heart." 


Pascal:  "  Yes,  but  it  is  necessary 
to  wager  ;  this  is  not  voluntary  ; 
you  are  embarked  ;  which  will  you 
lake,  then  ?  Let  us  see,  since  it  is 
necessary  to  choose,  let  us  see 
which  interests  you  the  least.  You 
have  two  things  to  lose — the  true 
and  the  good ;  and  two  things  to 
regain— your  reason  and  your  will, 
your  intelligence  and  your  beati- 
tude ;  and  your  nature  has  two 
things  to  shun — error  and  misery. 


wherein  he  finds  himself  dwelling 
that  is,  ihit  visible  world,  learn,"  etc. 


Father  Desmoldi:  "Who  will 
blame,  then,  the  Christians  for  not 
being  able  to  render  a  reason  for 
their  belief,  who  profess  a  religion 
for  which  they  cannot  render  a 
reason?  They  declare,  on  the 
contrary,  in  explaining  it  to  the 
Gentiles,  that  it  is  a  folly,  stultitiam. 
And  then  you  complain  that  they 
do  not  prove  it !  If  they  proved 
it,  they  would  not  keep  their  word: 
it  is  in  lacking  proofs  that  they  do 
not  lack  sense.  Yes  ;  but  although 
this  excuses  those  who  offer  it  such 
as  it  is,  and  removes  from  them  the 
blame  of  producing  it  without  rea- 
son, this  does  not  excuse  those 
who,  on  the  exposition  they  make  of  it, 
refuse  to  believe  it.  Recognize,  then, 
the  truth  of  religion  in  the  obscurity  of 
religion,  in  the  little  knowledge  that  we 
have  of  it,  in  the  indifference  that  we 
have  of  knowing  it." 

Port- Royal :  ' '  We  icaow  the  truth 
not  only  by  reasoning,  but  also  by 
sentiment,  and  by  a  vivid  and  lumi- 
nous intelligence' ' 

Port-Royal:  "  Yes,  but  it  is  ne- 
cessary to  wager  ;  this  is  not  vol- 
untary ;  you  are  embarked,  ana 
not  to  wager  that  God  is,  is  to  wager 
that  he  is  not.  Which  will  you  take 
then? 


EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS.  27 

Your  reason  is  not  more  wounded, 
since  it  is  necessary  to  make  a 
choice,  in  choosing  the  one  than 
the  other.  Here  is  a  point  elimi- 
nated ;  but  your  beatitude  ? 

"  Let  us  weigh  the  gain  and  the  "  Let  us  weigh  the  gain  and  the 
loss :  in  taking  '  heads'  that  God  loss  in  taking  the  part  of  believing 
is.  let  us  estimate  these  two  cases ;  that  God  is.  If  you  gain,  you  gain 
if  you  gain,  you  gain  every  thing  ;  every  thing  ;  if  you  lose,  you  lose 
if  you  lose,  you  lose  nothing.  Wa-  nothing.  Bet  then  that  he  is, 
gcr  then  that  he  is,  without  hesi-  without  hesitation.  Yes,  it  is  no- 
tation. This  is  admirable.  Yes,  cessary  to  wager,  but  I  wager  per- 
it  is  necessary  to  wager,  but  I  wa-  haps  too  much." 
ger  perhaps  too  much." 

Changes  of  this  kind  that  often  form  real  contradictions  are 
met  with  at  every  line.  It  is  the  same  with  retrenchments 
and  additions,  and  great  indeed  must  have  been  the  genius  of 
Pascal  if  such  profanations  have  allowed  any  thing  of  it  to  sur- 
vive. But  even  this  is  not  all.  Port-Royal,  Bossut,  and  the 
other  editors,  have,  in  many  passages,  inverted  the  very  order 
of  Pascal's  thought,  either  by  bringing  together  pieces  that 
evidently  should  have  remained  separate,  or  by  separating 
others  that  were  found,  as  it  were,  connected  by  the  very  force 
of  the  idea ;  moreover,  they  have  neglected  to  collect  a  great 
number  of  fragments  quite  as  important  as  those  they  have 
published.  It  results,  then,  from  all  this,  that  we  may  justly 
regard  as  very  faulty  the  editions  of  the  Thoughts  anterior  to 
the  report  of  M.  Cousin,  a  report  whose  object  is  before  all  to 
demonstrate  the  necessity  of  a  new  edition. 

M.  Cousin's  publication  produced  a  very  lively  sensation, 
md  raised  an  interesting  polemic.  M.  Sainte-Beuve,  while 
acknowledging  how  defective  the  old  editions  were,  undertook 
nevertheless  to  lighten  the  gravity  of  _the  reproaches  addressed 
Jo  the  editors  "of  Port-Royal. 

"  There  would  be  much  to  say  in  their  favor,"  he  wrote  in 
\844,'  "for  their  acquittal,  and  on  the  score  of  extenuating 
;ircumstances.  The  peace  of  the  Church,  it  is  known,  had  just 

1  .R«ru«  det  Dtux  Monies,  July  1st,  1844. 


28  EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS. 

been  concluded ;  the  Arnauds,  the  Nicoles,  the  Sacys,  had 
scarcely  left  concealment  or  prison.  It  was  proposed  to  then: 
to  occupy  themselves  with  the  papers  of  Pascal,  who  had  been 
a  few  years  dead,  and  to  draw  from  them  something  useful, 
edifying,  worthy  of  being  offered  to  the  Church  of  that  time 
and  to  the  faithful — a  volume,  in  fine,  that  might  be  shown  tc 
friends  and  enemies.  A  committee  of  friends  was  formed ; 
the  Due  de  Roannez  was  the  most  zealous  for  tho  memory  d 
his  dear  Pascal,  but  he  took  nothing  upon  himself,  whatever 
may  have  been  said ;  and  it  was  M.  Arnaud,  M.  Nicole,  and 
other  experts,  who  held  the  die.  The  Perier  family  was  die 
posed  to  retrench,  to  modify,  the  least  possible :  family  inter 
est  accorded  in  this  instance  with  literary  interest  (what  is  sc 
rare) ;  but  there  were  elsewhere  powerful,  insuperable  consid- 
erations,— the  censors  to  satisfy,  the  archbishop  to  manage, 
the  peace  of  the  Church  to  respect  loyally.  It  is  a  marvel,  in 
truth,  that  in  the  midst  of  all  these  breakers,  in  presence  of 
this  mass  of  almost  illegible  papers,  from  these  Thoughts,  often 
incoherent,  often  rugged,  has  been  drawn,  from  the  outset,  a 
little  volume  so  clear,  so  luminous,  so  complete  in  appearance, 
and  which,  even  with  one  or  two  blunders  (to  conceal  nothing), 
triumphed  so  incontestably  with  all.  It  is  vain  to  talk  after- 
wards about  literary  exactitude ;  there  was  here  a  far  graver 
question  of  fidelity  that  ruled  every  thing,  and  this  fidelity 
was  respected  by  the  first  editors." 

At  the  present  time,  now  that  the  motives  which  guided  the 
first  editors  exist  no  longer,  the  question  of  exactitude  subsists 
in  its  integrity,  and  there  remains  as  an  acquisition  to  literary 
history :  1st,  that  the  pieces  of  Pascal  designated  under  the 
name  of  Thoughts,  ought  to  be  considered  as  the  fragments  of 
the  defence  of  Christianity,  of  which  this  great  writer  devel- 
oped the  plan  to  his  friends  some  years  before  his  death ;  2d. 
that  in  order  to  leave  to  these  magnificent  sketches  their  first 
signification,  it  is  necessary  to  disengage  them  from  a  consid- 
erable number  of  fragments  with  which  they  have  been  long 
intermingled,  and  which  are  none  the  less  foreign  to  the  genera 
plan  of  the  defence  for  being  Pascal's ;  3d,  that  the  only  authen 


EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS.  29 

lie  text  of  the  Thoughts  is  that  of  the  autograph  manuscript. 
These  are  the  incontestable  principles  that  have  guided  the 
two  last  editors,  Faugere  and  Havet. 

The  work  of  Faugere,  the  oldest  in  date,  appeared  in 
1844,  under  the  following  title:  Thoughts,  Fragments,  and 
Letters  of  Blaise  Pascal,  published  for  the  first  time  conformably 
to  the  original  manuscripts,  in  great  part  unpublished.  To  make 
Pascal  known,  such  as  lie  is  in  the  autograph  manuscript,  is 
the  end  proposed  by  Faugere ;  and  this  end,  so  far  as  per- 
fect exactitude  of  text  is  concerned,  Faugere  has  completely 
attained.  "  We  have  wished,"  he  says,  "  that  our  edition 
might  hold  the  place  of  the  manuscript  texts  of  Pascal,  and 
particularly  of  the  autograph  manuscript.  We  have  read,  or 
rather  studied  this  manuscript,  page  by  page,  line  by  line, 
syllable  by  syllable,  from  beginning  to  end ;  and,  save  a  certain 
number  of  words  that  we  have  taken  care  to  indicate  as  illegi- 
ble, it  has  passed  entirely  into  our  edition." 

However  little  one  may  have  studied  the  manuscript  of 
Pascal,  he  comprehends  how  much  patience  and  devotion  it 
required  to  reproduce  with  the  exactitude  of  a  fac-simile  that 
volume,  the  reading  of  which  presents  almost  insuperable  dim"- 
I'.ulties,  as  well  on  account  of  the  writing  in  itself,  as  on 
account  of  the  references  and  interlineations  with  which  it  is 
filled ;  and,  to  be  just,  we  must  say  that  sufficient  credit  has 
not  been  given  to  Faugere  for  the  eminent  service  he  has 
rendered  to  letters ;  for  if  Cousin  was  the  first  to  designate 
the  defectiveness  .of  the  early  text,  it  may  also  be  said,  with 
Sainte-Beuve,  that  the  public  has  to  thank  Faugere  for  the 
re-conquest  of  the  first  Pascal. 

The  question  of  the  text  once  settled,  there  remains  the 
question  of  arrangement,  and  this,  it. must  be  acknowledged, 
will  always  leave  something  to  be  desired,  since  it  will  always 
be  necessarily  arbitrary.  Faugere  has  wholly  abandoned 
the  order  adopted  either  by  Port-Royal  or  by  Bossut,  and  he 
has  attempted,  according  to  different  indications  of  the  auto- 
graph manuscript,  to  re-establish  the  Thoughts  in  the  order 
Mhat  seemed  to  him  most  in  accordance  with  the  intentions  of 


30  EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS. 

Pascal.  In  this  essay  of  reconstruction,  he  has  shown  much 
sagacity ;  but  the  order  that  he  has  followed  is  so  different 
from  that  of  all  the  preceding  editions,  that  the  public  has 
found  itself,  if  we  may  use  the  expression,  nonplussed  by  this 
wholly  new  arrangement.  Accordingly  Havet,  who  pub- 
lished, in  1852,  a  new  edition  of  the  Thoughts,  has  thought 
best  to  follow  the  classification  of  Bossut,  that  is,  the  clas- 
sification to  which  the  public  has  long  been  accustomed  This 
classification,  moreover,  when  it  has  been  disengaged  from  cer- 
tain interpolations  and  certain  arbitrary  divisions,  has  seemed 
to  us  to  approximate  near  enough  to  the  general  plan  devel- 
oped by  Pascal  to  his  friends,  and  we  have  thought  best  to 
retain  it  in  many  points,  while  fully  aware  that  whatever 
arrangement  is  adopted,  it  is  very  difficult,  and,  thus  to  speak, 
impossible,  to  be  strictly  methodical ;  for  it  is  evident  that 
if  Pascal  wrote  certain  pieces  with  the  intention  of  attach- 
ing them  to  such  or  such  a  part  of  his  plan,  he  wrote  many 
others  without  any  definitely  preconceived  idea  of  classifica- 
tion. We  may  now  explain  the  course  that  we  have  pursued 
in  the  edition  that  we  present  to  the  public.  First,  in  what 
concerns  the  Thoughts : 

1°  We  have  separated,  as  Cousin  has  demanded,  and  as 
Faugere  and  Havet  have  done,  all  the  opuscules  that  do  not 
form  part  of  the  autograph  manuscript  of  the  Thoughts,  such 
*s  the  Conversation  with  Sacy  on  Epictetus  and  Montaigne,  and 
ihe  Discourses  on  the  Condition  of  the  Great. 

2°  We  have  retrenched  the  Thoughts  on  Death,  which  the 
early  editors  had  drawn  from  a  letter  of  Pascal ;  but  we  have 
not  therefore  deprived  the  reader  of  them,  for  we  have  given 
in  its  original  form  the  letter  that  contained  them. 

3°  While  avoiding  an  arbitrary  reconstruction  of  the  divis- 
ions, we  have  nevertheless  made  some  transpositions  that  have 
seemed  to  us  in  accordance  with  the  order  indicated  by  Pascal 
himself  before  his  friends,  on  the  subject  of  the  defence  of 
Christianity. 

4"  We  have,  at  the  head  of  the  chapters,  put  in  brackets  ti- 
tles that  are  borrowed,  sometimes  from  indications  furnished  by 


EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS.  31 

»he  manuscripts,  sometimes  from  the  editions  of  Port-Royal  and 
Bossut,  and  form,  we  think,  useful  summaries,  recalling,  from 
point  to  point,  the  general  idea  of  the  book  meditated  by  Pascal. 

Thus,  in  what  touches  the  arrangement  and  order,  we  give, 
without  any  foreign  addition,  the  Thoughts  properly  so  called, 
prefacing  them  with  a  fragmert  borrowed  from  the  first  edi- 
tion, wherein  is  found  a  summary  narrative  of  a  conversatioa 
in  which  Pascal  exposed  the  plan  of  his  great  work. 

In  what  concerns  the  text,  our  course  has  been  as  follows : 

We  have  caused  all  the  alterations  -to  which  the  text  had 
been  subjected  by  the  early  editors  to  disappear,  and  we  have 
been  able,  thanks  both  to  the  excellent  works  of  Cousin, 
Faugere,  and  Havet,  and  to  the  manuscripts,  to  restore  it  to 
its  primitive  purity ;  we  have  brought  together  what  had  been 
arbitrarily  separated,  separated  what  had  been  united  without 
reason,  and  eliminated  every  thing  that  was  not  Pascal's. 

We  have  not  thought  it  best  to  reproduce,  line  by  line  and 
word  for  word,  every  thing  contained  either  in  the  manuscripts 
or  in  the  exact  publication  of  M.  Faugere,  because  however 
great  may  be  our  admiration  for  Pascal,  we  have  thought  that 
the  public  would  be  little  interested  in  obscure  or  incomplete 
phrases  that  the  author  often  jotted  down  on  paper  as  a  memo- 
randum, and  whose  meaning  he  alone  could  know.  We  have 
given,  in  point  of  new  thoughts,  only  those  that  are  complete. 
But,  except  these  suppressions,  which  can  only  render  the 
reading  more  attractive  and  easy,  we  have  omitted  nothing, 
neglected  nothing.  We  have  even  indicated,  with  great  care, 
under  the  title  of  variations,  all  the  passages  that  Pascal  had 
erased,  since  these  passages  may  offer  some  interest,  either  as 
a  point  of  comparison  with  a  definite  text,  or  as  the  expression 
of  the  writer's  temerity.  As  to  the.  alterations,  suppressions, 
or  transpositions  to  which  Port-Royal,  Bossut,  or  the  other 
editors,  have  subjected  the  Thoughts,  we  have  not  regarded  it 
as  necessary  to  dwell  upon  them,  and  have  limited  ourselves 
to  an  indication  of  s>ome  of  them ;  for  the  existence  of  these 
alterations  once  established,  it  imports  little  to  know  what 
Pascal  has  been  made  to  say,  but  much  what  Pascal  has  said, 


32  EDITIONS  OF  PASCAL'S  THOUGHTS. 

As  to  the  annotation  with  which  we  have  accompanied  this 
text,  we  have  endeavored  to  give  only  what  is  essential,  apply- 
ing ourselves  especially  to  elucidate,  by  extracts  borrowed 
from  Pascal's  most  accredited  interpreters,  important  points 
of  doctrine.  Among  the  contemporary  historians  of  Pascal 
and  the  Thoughts,  Sainte-Beuve  and  Cousin  have  furnished 
us  important  appreciations.  We  have  also  borrowed  interest- 
ing commentaries  or  useful  elucidations  from  Faugere, 
Havet,  Nisard,  Villemain,  Maynard,  etc.  In  fine,  we  have 
gathered  from  the  early  editors  whatever  could  add  any  value 
to  our  work.  Placed  between  two  contradictory  opinions 
that  are  entertained  in  regard  to  Pascal, — one  representing 
him  as  a  skeptic,  the  other  representing  him  as  most  irre- 
proachably orthodox,  we  have  limited  ourselves  to  the  part  of 
exact  and  faithful  reporters,  fully  persuaded  that  what  interests 
the  public,  is  not  to  know  what  such  or  such  an  editor  thinks 
on  this  grave  question,  but  to  seize  clearly,  by  some  character 
istic  extracts,  the  general  sense  of  the  most  remarkable  judg- 
ments of  which  Pascal  has  been  the  object  on  the  part  of 
philosophers,  theologians,  and  men  of  letters.  We  will  add 
that  we  have  been  sober  in  the  .use  of  notes ;  for,  so  far  as  we 
are  able  to  judge  from  the  impression  upon  ourselves,  made  by 
the  reading  of  certain  works,  rendered  obligatory  by  the  labor 
of  this  edition,  the  writings  to  which  Port-Royal,  Jansenism,  and 
Pascal  himself,  have  given  rise  in  these  latter  years,  are  not 
always  exempt  from  ennui  and  fatigue.  The  minutiae  of  research 
have  been  pushed  to  the  extreme,  and  it  must  be  acknowl- 
edged that  such  pedantry  is  not  very  pleasing  to  the  public. 

After  the  revolution  that  recent  discoveries  and  the  rectifi- 
cations of  contemporaneous  criticism  have  produced  in  the 
editions  of  Pascal,  we  could  not  limit  ourselves  to  a  reproduc- 
tion of  the  Thoughts  alone.  It  was  at  least  necessary  to  give 
to  the  public,  and  this  time  isolating  them  and  re-establishing 
them  in  the  purity  of  their  text,  different  opuscules  that  had 
been  long  confounded  with  them.  It  was  moreover  necessary 
to  add  to  these  opuscules,  thus  restored,  the  pieces  recentlj 
discovered ;  and  this  we  have  done. 


GENIUS  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PASCAL, 

BY  HENEY  EOGEES. 


PASCAL  was  born  at  Clermont,  in  Auvergne,  in  the  yeai 
1623,  and  died  in  the  year  1662,  at  the  early  age  of  thirty- 
nine.  When  we  think  of  the  achievements  which  he  crowded 
into  that  brief  space,  and  which  have  made  his  name  famous 
to  all  generations,  we  may  well  exclaim  with  Corneille :  "  A 
peine  a-t-il  vecu,  quel  nom  il  a  laisse !'' 

It  is  well  known  that  Pascal  exhibited  from  the  earliest  child- 
hood the  most  precocious  proofs  of  inventive  genius,  especially 
in  the  department  of  mathematics.  Having,  if  we  may  believe 
the  universally  received  tradition,  been  willingly  kept  in  ig- 
norance of  geomc  '.ry,  lest  his  propensity  in  that  direction  should 
interfere  with  tin  prosecution  of  other  branches  of  knowledge, 
his  self-prompted  genius  discovered  for  itself  the  elementary 
truths  of  the  forbidden  science.  At  twelve  years  of  age  he 
was  surprised  by  his  father  in  the  act  of  demonstrating,  on  the 
pavement  of  an  old  hall,  where  he  used  to  play,  and  by  means 
of  a  rude  diagram,  traced  by  a  piece  of  coal,  a  proposition 
which  corresponded  to  the  thirty-second  of  the  First  Book  of 
Euclid.  At  fhe  age  of  sixteen,  he  composed  a  little  tractate  on 
the  Conic  Sections,  which  provoked  the  mingled  incredulity 
and  admiration  of  Descartes.  At  nineteen  he  invented  hia 
celebrated  Arithmetical  Machine ;  and  at  the  age  of  six-and- 
»wenty  he  had  composed  the  greater  part  of  his  mathematical 
works,  and  made  those  brilliant  experiments  in  Hydrostatic* 


34  GENIUS   AND   WHITINGS   OF   PASCAL. 

rod  Pneumatics  which  have  associated  his  name  with  those  of 
Torricelli  and  Boyle,  and  ranked  him  among  the  first  philos- 
ophers of  his  age.  Yet,  strange  to  say,  he  now  suddenly  re- 
nounced the  splendid  career  to  which  his  genius  so  unequivo 
cally  invited  him,  and  gave  himself  up  to  totally  different 
studies.  This  was  principally  attributable  to  that  strong  reli- 
gious impulse  which  was  imparted  to  his  mind  at  this  period — • 
rendered  deeper  by  early  experience  in  the  school  of  affliction. 
From  the  age  of  eighteen  he  was  a  perpetual  sufferer.  It 
1647,  when  only  in  his  twenty-fourth  year,  he  was  attacked 
by  paralysis.  His  ill-health  was  mainly,  if  not  wholly,  occa- 
sioned by  his  devotion  to  study ;  and  of  him  it  is  literally  irue, 
that  his  mind  consumed  his  body. 

So  complete  was  his  abandonment  of  science,  that  he  never 
returned  to  it  but  on  one  memorable  occasion,  and  then  only 
for  a  short  interval.  We  allude,  of  course,  to  the  remarkable 
problems  which  he  solved  respecting  the  curve  called  the  Cy- 
cloid. The  accounts  which  have  been  transmitted  to  us  by 
his  sister,  of  the  manner  in  which  these  investigations  were 
suggested  and  completed — accounts  which  are  authenticated 
by  a  letter  of  his  own  to  Fermat — strongly  impress  us  with 
the  vigor  and* brilliancy  of  his  genius.  We  are  assured  that, 
after  long  abandonment  of  mathematics,  his  attention  was  di- 
rected to  this  subject  by  a  casual  train  of  thought  suggested  in 
one  of  the  many  nights  which  pain  made  sleepless.  The 
thoughts  thus  suddenly  originated,  his  inventive  mind  rapidly 
pursued  to  all  the  brilliant  results  in  which  they  terminated ; 
and  in  the  brief  space  of  eight  days  the  investigations  were 
completed.  Partly  in  compliance  with  the  fashion  of  the  age, 
and  partly  from  the  solicitation  of  his  friend  the  Duke  de  Ko- 
annez,  he  concealed  for  a  time  the  discoveries  at  which  he  had 
irrived,  and  offered  the  problems  for  solution  to  all  the  mathe- 
maticians of  Europe,  with  a  first  and  second  prize  to  successfu1 
candidates.  If  no  solution  were  offered  in  three  months,  Pas- 
cal promised  to  furnish  his  own.  Several  were  forwarded,  but 
Vi  none,  in  the  estimation  of  the  judges,  completely  fulfilled 
th  3  conditions  of  the  challenge-,  Pascal  redeemed  his  pledge  by 


GKMUS   AND   -WRITINGS    OF   PASCAL.  3S 

publishing  his  own,  under  the  name  of  Amos  Dettonville, — an 
anagram  of  Louis  de  Montalte,  the  name  under  which  the 
"Provincial  Letters"  had  appeared.  This  was  in  1658-0, 
when  he  was  thirty-six  years  of  age. 

With  this  brief  exception,  Pascal  may  be  said  to  have  pra: 
ti rally  abandoned  science  from  the  age  of  twenty-six.  Yet  h 
ilid  not  at  once  become  a  religious  recluse.  For  some  years 
he  lived  a  cheerful,  and  even  gay,  though  never  dissipated  life, 
in  Paris,  in  the  centre  of  literary  and  polite  society,  loved  and 
admired  by  a  wide  circle  of  friends,  and  especially  by  his  pat- 
ron, the  Duke  de  Roannez.  To  the  accomplished  sister  of  thia 
nobleman,  M.  Faugere  conjectures  (as  we  think  plausibly)  that 
Pascal  was  secretly  attached,  but,  from  timidity  and  humility, 
"  never  told  his  love."  Perhaps,  in  part,  from  the  melancholy 
which  this  hopeless  attachment  inspired,  but  certainly  much 
more  in  consequence  of  the  deeper  religious  convictions,  pro- 
duced by  a  memorable  escape  from  an  appalling  death,  in  1654, 
his  indifference  to  the  world  increased ;  and  he  at  length 
sought  for  solitude  at  Port-Royal,  already  endeared  to  him  by 
the  residence  there  of  his  sister  Jacqueline. 

Here  it  is  well  known  he  produced  his  immortal  "  Provin- 
cial Letters ;"  and,  when  death  cut  short  his  brief  career,  was 
meditating  an  extensive  work  on  the  fundamental  truths  of  re- 
ligion,— especially  on  the  existence  of  God  and  the  evidences 
of  Christianity, — for  the  completion  of  which  he  would  have 
required  "  ten  years  of  health  and  leisure."  An  outline  of  the 
work  had  been  sometimes  (and  on  one  occasion  somewhat 
"ully)  imparted  in"  conversation  to  his  friends,  but  no  part  of  it 
was  ever  completed.  Nothing  was  found  after  his  death  but 
detached  "  Thoughts"  (interspersed  with  some  on  other  sub- 
jects) on  the  principal  topics  appropriate  to  such  a  work. 
They  were  the  stones  of  which  the  tmilding  was  to  have  con- 
sisted, many  of  them  unhewn,  and  some  few  such  as  the  builder, 
had  he  lived,  would  no  doubt  have  laid  aside.  The  form  in 
K'hich  the  Thoughts  were  put  together  comported  but  too  well 
with  their  fragmentary  character.  It  appears  that  he  did  not 
even  use  a  common-place  book;  but  when,  after  profound 


36  GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS    OF   PASCAL. 

meditation,  any  thought  struck  him  as  worth  recording,  he 
hastily  noted  it  on  any  scrap  of  paper  that  carne  to  hand,  often 
on  the  backs  of  old  letters ;  these  he  strung  together  on  a  file, 
or  tied  up  in  bundles,  and  left  them  till  better  health  and  un- 
troubled leisure  should  permit  him  to  evoke  a  new  creation  out, 
of  this  chaos.  It  is  a  wonder,  therefore,  that  the  Pensees  of 
Pascal  have  come  down  to  us  at  all.  Never,  surely,  was  so 
precious  a  freight  committed  to  so  crazy  a  bark.  The  Sybil 
herself  was  not  more  careless  about  those  leaves  on  which  she 
inscribed  her  prophetic  truths,  than  was  Pascal  about  those 
which  contained  the  results  of  his  meditations.  Of  these  re- 
sults, however,  we  are  in  part  defrauded,  by  something  far 
worse  than  either  the  fragility  of  the  materials  on  which  they 
are  inscribed,  or  their  utter  want  of  arrangement.  Many  of 
the  "  Thoughts"  are  themselves  only  half  developed  ;  others, 
as  given  us  in  the  literal  copy  of  M.  Faugere,  break  off  in  the 
middle  of  a  sentence,  even  of  a  word.  Some  casual  interrup- 
tion— frequently,  no  doubt,  some  paroxysm  of  pain,  to  which 
the  great  author,  in  his  latter  years,  was  incessantly  subject — 
broke  the  thread  of  thought,  and  left  the  web  imperfect  for- 
ever. 

It  is  humiliating  to  think  of  the  casualties  which,  possibly  in 
many  cases,  have  robbed  posterity  of  some  of  the  most  pre- 
cious fruits  of  the  meditations  of  the  wise :  perhaps  arrested 
trains  of  thought  which  would  have  expanded  into  brilliant 
theories  or  grand  discoveries  ; — trains  which,  when  the  genial 
moment  of  inspiration  has  passed,  it  has  been  found  impossible 
to  recall ;  or  which,  if  recalled  up  to  the  point  at  which  they 
were  broken  off,  terminate  only  in  a  wall  of  rock,  in  which  the 
mountain  path,  which  had  been  before  so  clearly  seen,  exists 
no  longer.  It  is  humiliating  to  think  that  a  fit  of  the  tooth- 
ache, or  a  twinge  of  the  gout,  might  have  thus  arrested — no 
more  to  return — the  opening  germ  of  conjecture,  which  led  on 
fo  the  discovery  of  the  Differential  Calculus,  or  the  Theory  of 
Gravitation.  The  condition  of  man,  in  this  respect,  affords,  in- 
Jeed,  one  striking  proof  of  that  combined  "  greatness  and  mis- 
ery" of  his  nature,  on  which  Pascal  so  profoundly  meditated. 


GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL.  37 

It  is  wonderful  that  a  being,  such  as  he,  should  achieve  so 
rr.uch  ;  it  is  humiliating  that  he  must  depend  on  such  casual- 
ties for  success.  On  the  precarious  control  which  even  the 
greatest  men  have  over  their  own  minds,  Pascal  himself  strik- 
ingly says :  "  The  mind  of  this  sovereign  of  the  world  is  not  so 
independent  as  not  to  be  discomposed  by  the  first  tintamarre 
that  may  be  made  around  him.  It  does  not  need  the  roar  of 
artillery  to  hinder  him  from  thinking;  the  creaking  of  a  vane 
or  a  pulley  will  answer  the  purpose.  Be  not  surprised  that  ho 
reasons  ill  just  now ;  a  fly  is  buzzing  in  his  ears — it  is  amply 
sufficient  to  render  him  incapable  of  sound  deliberation.  If 
you  wish  him  to  discover  truth,  be  pleased  to  chase  away  that 
insect  who  holds  his  reason  in  check,  and  troubles  that  mighty 
intellect  which  governs  cities  and  kingdoms  !  Le  plaisant  dieu 
que  voila  f  0  ridicolosissimo  eroe  ! 

On  the  imperfect  sentences  and  half-written  words,  which 
are  now  printed  in  the  volumes  of  M.  Faugere,  we  look  with 
something  like  the  feelings  with  which  we  pore  on  some  half- 
defaced  inscription  on  an  ancient  monument — with  a  strange 
commixture  of  curiosity  and  veneration ;  and,  while  we  won- 
der what  the  unfinished  sentences  may  mean,  we  mourn  over 
the  malicious  accident  which  has  perhaps  converted  what 
might  have  been  an  aphorism  of  profoundest  importance  into 
a  series  of  unmeaning  ciphers.  One  of  the  last  things,  assur- 
edly, which  we  should  think  of  doing  with  such  fragments, 
would  be  to  attempt  to  alter  them  in  any  way ;  least  of  all,  to 
supplement  them,  and  to  divine  and  publish  Pascal's  meaning, 
There  have  been  learned  men,  who  have  given  us  supplements 
to  the  lost  pieces  of  some  ancient  historians; — erudite  Fiein- 
sheiiniuses,  who  hand  us  a  huge  bale  of  indifferent  Latin,  and 
beg  us  only  to  think  it  Livy's  lost  Decades.  But  what  man 
would  venture  to  supplement  Pascal"?  Only  such,  it  may  be 
supposed,  as  would  feel  no  scruple  in  scouring  an  antique 
medal,  or  a  worthy  successor  of  those  monks  who  obliterated 
manuscript  pieces  of  Cicero,  that  they  might  inscribe  them  with 
v  me  edifying  legend. 

Alas !  more  noted  people  than  these  were  scarcely  more  sera- 


38  GENIUS    AND   WRITINGS    OF  PASCAL. 

pulous  in  the  case  of  Pascal.  His  friends  decided  that  the 
fragments  which  he  had  left  behind  him,  imperfect  as  they 
were,  were  far  too  valuable  to  be  consigned  to  oblivion ;  and 
BO  far  all  4he  world  will  agree  with  them.  If,  further,  they 
had  selected  whatever  appeared  in  any  degree  coherent,  and 
printed  these  verbatim  et  literatim,  in  the  best  order  they  coul-j 
devise,  none  would  have  censured,  and  all  would  have  thanked 
them.  But  they  did  much  more  than  this;  or  rather,  th«y 
did  both  much  more  and  much  less.  They  deemed  it  not  suf- 
ficient to  give  Pascal's  Remains,  with  the  statement  that  they 
were  but  Fragments;  that  many  of  the  thoughts  were  very 
imperfectly  developed ;  that  none  of  them  had  had  the  advan- 
tage of  the  author's  revision — apologies  for  any  deficiencies 
with  which  the  world  would  have  been  fully  satisfied ;  but  they 
ventured  upon  mutilations  and  alterations  of  a  most  unwarrant- 
able description.  In  innumerable  instances  they  changed  words 
and  phrases  ;  in  many  others  they  left  out  whole  paragraphs, 
and  put  a  sentence  or  two  of  their  own  in  the  place  of  them ; 
they  supplemented  what  they  deemed  imperfect  with  a  prefa- 
tory exordium  or  a  prefatory  conclusion,  without  any  indica- 
tion as  to  what  were  the  respective  ventures  in  this  rare  spe- 
cies of  literary  copartnery.  It  must  have  been  odd  to  see  this 
committee  of  critics  sitting  in  judgment  on  Pascal's  style,  and 
deliberating  with  what  alterations,  additions,  and  expurgations 
it  would  be  safe  to  permit  the  author  of  the  Provincial  Letters 
to  appear  in  public.  Arnauld,  Nicole,  and  the  Duke  de  Ro- 
annes  were  certainly  no  ordinary  men  ;  but  they  were  no  more 
capable  of  divining  the  thoughts  which  Pascal  had  not  ex- 
pressed, or  of  improving  the  style  where  he  had  expressed  them, 
than  of  completing  a  sketch  of  Raphael. 

It  appears  that,  large  as  was  the  editorial  discretion  they 
assumed,  or,  rather,  large  as  was  their  want  of  all  discretion, 
they  had  contemplated  an  enterprise  still  more  audacious : 
lothing  less  than  that  of  completing  the  entire  work  which 
Pascal  had  projected  ;  partly  out  of  the  materials  he  had  left 
*nd  partly  from  what  their  own  ingenuity  might  supply.  It 
even  appears  that  they  had  actually  commenced  this  hetero> 


GENIUS   AND    WRITINGS  OI    PASCAL.  39 

genoous  structure  ;  and  an  amusing  account  has  been  left  by 
M.  Perier,  both  of  the  progress  the  builders  of  this  Babel  had 
made,  and  of  the  reasons  for  abandoning  the  design.  "  At 
last,"  say?  he,  "  it  was  resolved  to  reject  the  plan,  because  it 
was  felt  to  be  almost  impossible  thoroughly  to  enter  into  the 
thoughts  and  the  plan  of  the  author,  and,  above  all,  of  an 
author  who  was  no  more  ;  and  because  it  would  not  have  been 
the  work  of  M.  Pascal,  but  a  work  altogether  different — un 
cuvrage  tout  different  /"  Very  different  indeed  !  If  this  naive 
expression  had  been  intended  for  irony,  it  would  have  been 
almost  worthy  of  Pascal  himself. 

Subsequent  editors  have  taken  similar  liberties,  if  not  so 
flagrant.  While  the  original  editors  left  out  many  passages 
from  fear  of  the  Jesuits,  Condorcet,  in  his  edition,  omitted 
many  of  the  most  devout  sentiments  and  expressions,  under 
the  influence  of  a  very  different  feeling.  Infidelity,  as  well  as 
superstition,  has  its  bigots,  who  would  be  well  pleased  to  have 
their  index  expurgatorius  also.  Unhappy  Pascal !  Between 
his  old  editors  and  his  new  he  seemed  to  be  in  the  condition 
of  the  persecuted  bigamist  in  the  fable,  whose  elder  wife  would 
have  robbed  him  of  all  his  black  hairs,  and  his  younger  of  the 
gray.  Under  such  opposite  editing,  it  is  hard  to  say  what 
might  not  at  last  have  disappeared. 

It  had,  as  we  have  stated,  been  long  felt  that  no  thoroughly 
trustworthy  edition  of  Pascal's  "  Thoughts"  had  yet  been  pub- 
lished ;  that  none  knew  what  was  precisely  his,  and  what  was 
not.  M.  Cousin  demonstrated  the  necessity  of  a  new  edition 
founded  upon  a'  diligent  collation  of  original  manuscripts. 
This  task  M.  Faugere  has  performed  with  incredible  industry 
and  exactitude  ....  Every  accessible  source  of  informa 
tion  has  been  carefully  ransacked  ;  every  fragment  of  manu 
script,  whether  in  Pascal's  own  hand  or  in  that  of  members  o. 
his  family,  has  been  diligently  examined ;  and  every  page 
offers  indications  of  minute  attention  even  to  the  most  trivial 
rerbal  differences.  Speaking  of  the  autograph  MS.  preserved 
m  the  Royal  Library  at  Paris,  a  folio,  into  which  the  original 
loose  leaves  are  pasted,  or,  when  written  on  both  sides,  care- 


10  GENIUS    AND   WRITINGS  OF    PASCA.L. 

fully  let  into  the  page — encadres — be  says  :  "  We  have  read, 
or  rather  studied  this  MS.,  page  by  page,  line  by  line,  syllable 
by  syllable,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end ;  and  with  the  ex- 
ception of  some  words  which  are  illegible,  it  has  passed  entir3 
:nto  the  present  edition."  As  the  public,  in  the  former  edi- 
tions, did  not  exactly  know  what  was  Pascal's  and  what  was 
not,  M.  Faugere  has  been  compelled  to  do  what,  under  othet 
circumstances,  it  would  not  have  been  desirable,  and  indee«i 
hardly  just  to  do — what,  indeed,  any  author  of  reputation 
would  vehemently  protest  against  in  his  own  case.  He  has 
been  obliged  to  give  every  fragment,  however  imperfect,  litera- 
tim et  verbatim.  The  extracts,  as  we  have  said,  often  terminate 
.n/he  middle  of  a  sentence,  sometimes  even  of  a  word.  As 
M.  Vinet  has  justly  observed  in  relation  to  this  feature  of  M. 
Faugere's  labors,  Pascal  himself  would  hardly  have  been  satis- 
fied "  with  either  his  old  editors  or  the  new."  '  At  the  same 
time,  it  must  be  confessed,  that,  apart  from  this  circumstance, 
it  is  deeply  interesting  to  contemplate  the  first  rude  forms  of 
profound  or  brilliant  thought,  as  they  presented  themselves  to 
the  ardent  mind  of  Pascal.  This  M.  Faugere  has  often  enabled 
us  to  do,  more  especially  in  the  singular  collection  of  the  rough 
notes  for  the  "Provincial  Letters" — (Tom.  i.  p.  293-314).  It 
is  like  looking  at  the  first  sketch  of  a  great  painting  of  Raphael ; 
or,  as  M.  Vinet  observes,  "  we  arc  taken  into  the  great  sculp- 
tor's studio,  and  behold  him  at  work,  chisel  in  hand." 

M.  Cousin,  we  should  think,  must  be  satisfied  with  the  accu- 
racy and  completeness  of  this  edition ;  and  also  of  the  insuf- 
ficiency of  his  own  argument  that  Pascal  was,  in  fact,  a  "  uni- 
versal skeptic,"  who  embraced  the  truths  of  religion  not  as  a 
hypocrite,  indeed,  but  in  the  exercise  of  a  blind  faith — in  fact, 
in  a  sort  of  paroxysm  of  despair  ;  or  because  he  believed  that 
what  he  had  proved  false  in  physics  was  still  true  in  morals  : 
"  that  nature  abhors  a  vacuum?  M.  Cousin,  in  part,  founds 


«  Our  reasons  for  preferring  the  no  less  accurate  and  complete,  but  more 
oippily  arranged  edition  of  M.  Louandre,  have  been  fully  i  tated  in  the 
preface. — Ed. 


GENIUS    AND    WETTINGS   OF   PASCAL  .         41 

bis  theory  on  the  fact  that  the  first  editors  had  tamed  down 
some  of  the  more  startling  statements  of  Pascal,  and  omitted 
others ;  and  that  a  new  edition  would  reveal  the  skeptic  in  his 
full  dimensions.  He  must  now,  we  should  think,  see  his  error. 
There  is  little  or  nothing  which  argues  Pascal's  abiding  con- 
viction of  the  sufficiency  of  the  evidence  for  the  fundamental 
truths  of  religion,  or  the  divine  origin  of  Christianity,  to  be 
found  in  the  old  editions,  which  does  not  reappear  in  the  new, 
and  with  much  new  matter  to  confirm  it.  To  this  subject  we 
shall  return,  after  offering  some  observations  on  the  genius  and 
character  of  Pascal. 

In  one  respect,  his  genius  strongly  resembled  that  of  a  recent 
subject  of  our  criticism — Leibnitz.  His  was  one  of  the  rare 
minds  apparently  adapted,  almost  in  equal  measure,  to  the  suc- 
cessful pursuit  of  the  most  diverse  departments  of  philosophy 
and  science — of  mathematics  and  physics — of  metaphysics  and. 
criticism.  Great  as  was  his  versatility,  it  may  be  doubted 
vhether  in  that  respect  he  did  not  yield  somewhat  to  Leibnitz, 
as  also  in  his  powers  of  acquisition,  and  most  assuredly  in  the 
extent  of  his  knowledge.  It  is  not,  however,  to  be  forgotten 
that  he  died  at  little  more  than  half  the  age  of  the  veteran 
philosopher  of  Germany  ;  and  that  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
for  his  years,  his  attainments  were  very  extensive.  Still  it  is 
true  that  that  perfectly  unique  characteristic  of  Leibnitz — his 
equal  aptitude  and  appetite  for  reading  and  thinking,  for  the 
accumulation  of  knowledge,  and  for  original  speculation,  could 
never  have  been  in  the  same  degree  a  characteristic  of  Pascal ; 
and  still  less  in  such  amazingly  diversified  directions.  Pascal 
followed  in  this  respect  the  predominant  law  of  all  very  inven- 
tive minds.  He  was  fonder  of  thought  than  of  books — of 
meditation  than  of  acquisition.  Even  this  tendency  of  mine1 
manifested  itself  within  a  more  restricted  sphere,  ample  enough 
t  is  true — that  of  philosophy  and  theology.  To  Leibnitz, 
r.Tisprudenco,  history,  and  antiquities  were  nearly  as  familiar 
w.i  these. 

But  if  the  character  of  Pascal's  genius  was  less  excursive 
than  that  of  Leibnitz,  and  the  literary  element  in  it  far  lesa 


.  GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS    OF   PASCAL. 

active,  these  points  of  inferiority  were  amply  compensated  b} 
a  superiority  in  other  qualities,  in  which  there  can  be  no  com 
parison  between  them.  In  inventiveness  they  may,  perhaps 
have  been  equal — but  even  here  only  in  matneinatics ;  in  mora. 
science — the  science  of  man — we  know  of  nothing  out  oi 
Bacon,  who  may  be  said  to  set  all  comparison  at  defiance, 
certainly  nothing  in  Liebnitz,  that  will  bear  comparison  in 
depth,  subtlety,  and  comprehensiveness  with  some  of  tha 
"  Thoughts"  of  Pascal.  But,  in  another  characteristic  of  true 
genius — and  which,  for  want  of  another  name,  we  must  call 
felicity — neither  Leibnitz,  nor,  we  might  almost  affirm,  any  one 
else,  can,  in  the  full  import  of  the  term,  be  compared  with 
Pascal.  Endowed  with  originality  the  most  active  and  various, 
all  that  lie  did  was  with  yrace.  Full  of  depth,  subtlety,  bril- 
liancy, both  his  thoughts,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  expresses 
them,  are  also  full  of  beauty.  His  just  image  is  that  of  the 
youthful  athlete  of  Greece,  in  whom  was  seen  the  perfection  of 
physical  beauty  and  physical  strength  ;  in  whom  every  muscle 
was  developed  within  the  just  limits  calculated  io  secure  a 
symmetrical  development  of  all ;  the  result  of  the  whole  being 
the  largest  possible  amount  of  power  and  flexibility  in  union. 

In  all  the  manifestations  of  Pascal's  mind,  this  rare  felicity 
is  exuberantly  displayed ;  in  the  happy  methods  by  which  he 
lighted  on  truth,  and  pursued  scientific  discovery  ;  in  the  selec- 
tion and  arrangement  of  topics  in  all  his  compositions ;  in  the 
peculiar  delicacy  of  his  wit — so  strongly  contrasted  with  all  the 
ordinary  exhibitions  of  that  quality  of  mind  with  which  his 
coarse  age  was  familiar ;  and,  above  all,  in  that  indescribable 
elegance  of  expression  which  uniformly  characterizes  his  finish- 
ed efforts,  and  often  his  most  negligent  utterances,  and  which 
even  time  can  do  nothing  to  impair.  Let  us  be  permitted  to 
say  a  word  or  two  further  on  these  topics. 

In  his  scientific  writings,  we  seem  to  discern  the  traces  of 
this  felicity  almost  equally  in  the  matter  and  the  form.  In 
relation  to  the  former,  there  is  probably  a  little  illusion  prao> 
•ased  upon  us.  In  reading  his  uniformly  elegant  and  perspicu- 
ous exposition  of  his  own  scientific  discoveries,  we  are  apt  \f 


GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL.  43 

underrate  the  toil  and  intellectual  struggles  by  which  he 
achieved  them.  We  know  that  they  were,  and  must  have 
been,  attended  with  much  of  both — nay,  that  his  shattered 
health  was  the  penalty  of  the  intensity  of  his  studies.  Still,  it 
is  hardly  possible  to  read  his  expositions  without  having  the 
impression  that  his  discoveries  resembled  a  species  of  inspira- 
tion; and  that  his  mind  followed  out  the  first  germinant 
thought  to  its  consequences,  with  more  ease  and  rapidity  than 
is  usually  exemplified.  We  can  scarcely  imagine  it  would 
have  been  necessary  for  him  to  have  undergone  the  frightful 
toils  of  Kepler,  had  he  been  led  into  the  same  track  of  discov 
cries.  And,  in  fact,  whatever  illusion  his  ease  and  elegance  o 
manner  may  produce,  we  know  that  his  achievements  were 
rapidly  completed.  It  was  so  with  the  problems  on  the  Cy 
cloid ;  it  was  so  with  his  discoveries  in  Pneumatics  and  Hy- 
drostatics. In  fact,  though  his  Traite  de  FEquilibre  des  Li- 
queurs, and  that  De  la  Pesanteur  ie  I' Air,  were  not  composed 
till  1653,  they  seem  to  have  been  only  another  form  of  the 
treatise  he  promised  in  his  Nouvellrs  Experiences  touckant  le 
Vide,  published  in  1647  ;  and  of  which  that  tract  was  avowedly 
an  abridgment.  Indeed,  as  already  said,  Pascal  had  nearly 
quitted  these  investigations  before  the  completion  of  his  twenty- 
sixth  year. 

There  was  no  scientific  subject  which  Pascal  touched  in 
which  the  felicity  of  his  genius — the  promptitude  and  bril- 
liancy of  his  mind — did  not  shine  forth.  We  see  these  quali- 
ties eminently  displayed  in  his  Traite  du  Triangle  Arithm6- 
tique — in  the  invention  and  construction  of  his  Arithmetical 
Machine — in  the  mode  of  solving  the  problems  respecting  the 
Cycloid,  in  which,  while  employing  Cavalieri's  "  Method  of 
Indivisibles,"  .he  proposes  to  remove  the  principal  objection 
which  had  been  made  to  it,  by  conceptions  which  bring  him 
within  a  step  of  the  Fluxions  of  Newton,  and  the  Calculus  of 
lieibnitz.  The  same  qualities  of  mind  are  eminently  displayed 
ji  the  manner  in  which  he  establishes  the  hydrostatic  paradox ; 
tnd  generally  in  the  experiments  detailed  in  the  Nouoelks 
Experiences,  and  the  other  connected  pieces ;  most  of  all  in 


44r  GENIUS    AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL. 

that  celebrated  Crucial  experiment  on  the  Puy-de-Dome,  Ly 
which  he  lastingly  decided  the  cause  of  the  suspension  of  th« 
mercury  in  the  barometrical  tube.  As  there  are  few  things 
rocorded  in  the  history  of  science  more  happily  ingenious  than 
the  conception  of  this  experiment,  so  never  was  there  any  thing 
more  pleasantly  naive  than  the  manner  in  which  he  proposes 
it,  in  his  letter  to  M.  Perier.  "  You  doubtless  see,"  says  he 
"that  this  experiment  is  decisive  of  the  question ;  and  that  it 
it  happen  that  the  mercury  shall  stand  lower  at  the  top  than 
at  the  bottom  of  the  mountain  (as  I  have  many  reasons  for 
thinking,  although  all  those  who  have  meditated  on  this  sub- 
ject are  of  a  contrary  opinion),  it  will  necessarily  follow  that 
the  weight  and  pressure  of  the  air  are  the  sole  cause  of  this 
suspension  of  the  mercury,  and  not  the  horror  of  a  vacuum  ; 
since  it  is  very  certain,  that  there  is  much  more  air  to  press  at 
the  base  than  on  the  summit  of  the  mountain ;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  surely  cannot  say,  that  nature  abhors  a  vacuum 
more  at  the  bottom  of  a  mountain  than  on  the  top  of  it !" ' 

The  usual  felicity  of  his  style  is  seen  throughout  his  phi- 
losophical as  well  as  his  other  works.     They  appear  to  us  to 


1  Descartes  claimed  the  suggestion  of  this  brilliant  experiment.  All  w? 
can  say  is,  that  Pascal,  who  was  the  very  soul  of  honor,  repeatedly  de- 
clares, that  he  had  meditated  this  experiment  from  the  very  time  he  had 
verified  Torricelli's,  and  only  waited  the  opportunity  of  performing  it.  Oa 
the  other  hand,  Descartes  was  jealous  of  the  discoveries  of  others,  and,  t.- 
Leibnitz  truly  observes,  slow  to  give  to  them  all  the  praise  and  admirai'ou 
which  were  their  due.  With  all  his  great  powers,  he  had  but  little  mag- 
nanimity. Jt  is  possible  that  he  may  have  thought  of  a  similar  experiment, 
that  he  may  have  conferred  upon  the  subject  w:'th  Pascal ;  but,  if  the  latter 
speaks  truth,  it  is  impossible  that  he  should  not  already  have  determined 
upon  it.  Indeed,  it  is  hardly  probable  that,  had  it  been  originally  a  con- 
option  of  Descartes,  he  would  not  have  made  the  experiment  for  himself, 
gnd  thus  gained  the  honor  undisputed  and  undivided.  Pascal  was,  in  like 
manner,  accused  of  having  appropriated  the  honor  of  Torricelli's  experi- 
ments. Nothing  can  be  more  perfectly  beautiful  than  the  manner  in  which 
Ce  vindicates  his  integrity  and  candor,  in  his  letter  to  M.  de  Ribeyre  oc 
this  subject.  He  shows  triumphantly,  that,  in  his  original  Xoutelles  E<cpe 
rience*,  he  had  not  only  not  claimed,  but  had  most  distinctly  disclaimed, 
all  credit  for  the  experiments  in  question,  and  had  been  at  much  pains  U 
five  honor  where  honor  was  due. 


GENIUS    AND    WRITINGS    OF   PASCAL.  45 

possess  the  highest  merit  which  can  belong  to  scientific,  com- 
position. It  is  true  that,  in  his  purely  mathematical  writings — 
partly  from  the  defective  notation  of  his  age — itself  a  result  of 
the  want  of  that  higher  Calculus,  which  was  reserved  for  New- 
ton and  Leibnitz — he  is  often  compelled  to  adopt  a  more  prolix 
style  of  demonstration  than  would  have  been  subsequently 
necessary ;  but  even  here,  and  still  more  in  all  the  fragment? 
which  relate  to  natural  philosophy,  his  style  is  strikingly  con- 
trasted with  the  clumsy  expression  of  the  generality  of  con- 
temporary writers.  His  Fragments  abound  in  that  perspicuous 
elegance  which  the  French  denominate  by  the  expressive  word 
nettete.  The  arrangement  of  thought  and  the  turn  of  expres- 
sion are  alike  beautiful.-  Probably  no  one  ever  knew  so  well 
when  to  stay  his  hand. 

But  it  is,  of  course,  in  his  writings  on  moral  and  critical  sub- 
jects in  which  we  should  chiefly  expect  this  felicity  to  appear; 
and  here  we  may  well  say,  in  the  eloquent  language  of  M. 
Faugere,  it  is  a  "  style  grand  sans  exageration,  partout  rempli 
demotion  et  contenu,  vif  sans  turbulence,  personnel  sans  pe- 
danterie  et  sans  amour-propre,  superbe  et  modeste  tout-ensem- 
ble ;"  or,  as  he  elsewhere  expresses  it,  "  tellement  identifie  avec 
Tame  de  1'ecrivain  qu'il  n'est  que  la  pensee  elle-meme,  paree 
de  sa  chaste  nudite  comme  une  statue  antique."  By  the  con- 
fession of  the  first  French  critics,  the  Lettres  Provinciales  did 
more  than  any  other  composition  to  fix  the  French  language. 
On  this  point,  the  suffrages  of  all  the  most  competent  judges — 
of  Voltaire  and  Bossuet,  D'Alembert  and  Condorcet — are 
unanimous.  "  Not  a  single  word  occurs,"  says  the  first,  "  par- 
taking of  that  vicissitude  to  which  living  languages  are  so  sub- 
;ect.  Here,  then,  we  may  fix  the  epoch  when  our  language 
may  be  said  to  have  assumed  a  settled  form."  "  The  French 
language,"  says  D'Alembert,  "  was  very  far  from  being  formed, 
as  we  may  judge  by  the  greater  part  of  the  works  published 
at  that  time,  and  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  endure  the  read- 
jig.  In  the  '  Provincial  Letters,'  there  is  not  a  single  wore 
that  has  become  obsolete ;  and  that  book,  though  writtei 
ibove  a  century  ago,  seems  as  if  it  had  beer,  written  but  yes 


46  GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL. 

terday."  And  as  these  Letters  were  the  first  model  of  French 
prose,  so  they  still  remain  the  objects  of  unqualified  admira- 
tion. The  writings  of  Pascal  have,  indeed,  a  paradoxical  des- 
tiny :  "  flourishing  in  immortal  youth,"  all  that  time  can  do  is 
to  superadd  to  the  charms  of  perpetual  beauty  the  veneration 
which  belongs  to  age.  His  style  cannot  grow  old. 

When  we  reflect  on  the  condition  of  the  language  when  he 
appeared,  this  is  truly  wonderful.  It  was  but  partially  re- 
claimed from  barbarism — it  was  still  an  imperfect  instrument 
of  genius.  He  had  no  adequate  models — he  was  to  create 
them.  Thus  to  seize  a  language  in  its  rude  state,  and  compel 
it,  in  spite  of  its  hardness  and  intractability,  to  become  a  mal- 
leable material  of  thought,  is  the  peculiar  characteristic  of  the 
highest  specks  of  mind  :  nothing  but  the  intense  fire  of  genius 
can  fuse  these  heterogeneous  elements,  and  mould  them  into 
forms  of  beauty.  As  a  proof,  it  may  be  remarked,  that  none 
but  the  highest  genius  has  ever  been  equal  to  this  task.  Ge- 
nius of  less  than  the  first  order  will  often  make  improvements 
in  the  existing  state  of  a  language,  and  give  it  a  perceptible 
impulse ;  but  none  but  the  most  creative  and  plastic  power  can 
at  once  mould  a  language  into  forms  which  cannot  become 
obsolete ; — which  remain  in  perpetuity  a  part  of  the  current 
literature,  amid  all  the  changes  of  time  and  the  sudden  caprices 
of  fashion.  Thus  it  required  a  Luther  to  mould  the  harsh  Ger- 
man into  the  language  of  his  still  unrivalled  translation  of  the 
Scriptures ;  in  which,  and  in  his  vernacular  compositions,  he 
first  fairly  reclaimed  his  native  language  from  its  wild  state, 
brought  it  under  the  yoke,  and  subjected  it  to  the  purposes  of 
literature.  Pascal  was  in  a  similar  manner  the  creator  of  the 
French.  Yet  each  performed  his  task  in  a  mode  as  charac- 
teristic as  the  materials  on  which  they  operated  were  different. 
Energy  was  the  predominant  quality  of  Luther's  genius;  beauty 
of  Pascal's.  The  rugged  German,  under  the  hand  of  Luther, 
is  compelled  to  yield  to  an  irresistible  application  of  force;  it 
is  the  lightning  splitting  oak  and  granite.  The  French,  under 
that  of  Pascal,  assumes  forms  of  beauty  by  a  still  and  noise- 
less movement,  and  as  by  a  sort  of  enchantment ; — it  is  "  the 


GENIUS   AND    WRITINGS    OF   PASCAL.  47 

west  wind  ungirding  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  and  calling  forth 
bud  and  flower  at  its  bidding." 

It  may  be  thought  strange  by  some  that  the  orderly  em- 
ployment of  an  unformed  language  shou.d  be  represented,  not 
only  as  so  signal  a  triumph,  but  as  an  index  of  the  highest 
genius.  But  it  will  not  appear  unphilosophical  to  those  who 
duly  consider  the  subject.  If,  even  when  language  has  reached 
its  full  development,  we  never  see  the  full  capacities  of  thi* 
delicate  instrument  put  forth  except  by  great  genius,  how  can 
we  expect  it  when  the  language  is  still  imperfect  ?  As  used  in 
this  rude  state,  language  resembles  the  harsh  music  of  the 
Alpine  horn,  blown  by  the  rude  Swiss  herd-boy :  it  is  only 
when  the  lofty  peaks  around  take  it  up  that  it  is  transmuted 
by  their  echoes  into  exquisite  melody. 

The  severely  pure  and  simple  taste  which  reigns  in  Pascal's 
style  seems,  when  we  reflect  on  those  vices  which  more  or  less 
infected  universal  letters,  little  less  than  a  miraculous  felicity. 
One  wonders  by  what  privilege  it  was  that  he  freed  himself 
from  the  contagion  of  universal  example,  and  rose  so  superior 
to  his  age.  Taste  was  yet  almost  unfelt ;  each  writer  affected 
extravagance  of  some  kind  or  other, — strained  metaphor, 
quaint  conceits,  far-fetched  turns  of  thought,  unnatural  con- 
structions. These  were  the  vices  of  the  day ;  not  so  much 
perhaps  in  France  as  in  England,  but  to  a  great  extent  in  both. 
From  all  these  blemishes  Pascal's  style  is  perfectly  free ;  he 
anticipated  all  criticism,  and  became  a  law  to  himself.  Some 
of  his  observations,  however,  show  how  deeply  he  had  revolved 
the  true  principles  of  taste  in  composition.  His  "  thoughts" 
sur  F Eloquence  et  Style,  are  well  worth  the  perusal  of  every 
writer  and  speaker.  In  one  of  them  he  profoundly  says,  "  The 
very  same  sense  is  materially  aft'ected  by  the  words  that  con 
vey  it.  The  sense  receives  its  dignity  from  the  words,  rather 
than  imparts  it  to  them."  In  another,  he  says,  "  All  the  false 
beauties  that  we  condemn  in  Cicero  have  their  admirers  in 
crowds."  And,  in  the  third,  he  admirably  depicts  the  pre- 
vailing vice  of  strained  antitheses :  "  Those,"  says  he,  "  who 
Jrame  antitheses  by  forcing  the  sense,  are  like  men  who  make 


1:8  GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS    OF   PASCAL. 

false  windows  for  the  sake  of  symmetry.  Their  rule  is  not  to 
Rpeak  justly,  but  to  mftke  just  figures."  The  time  spent  on  his 
own  compositions,  however,  shows  that  even  such  felicity  aa 
his  own  could  not  dispense  with  that  toil,  which  is  an  essential 
Condition  of  all  perfect  writing — indeed  of  all  human  excel- 
lence ;  and  is  one  other  proof  of  the  extreme  shallowness  of 
that  theory  which  would  have  us  believe  that,  to  attain  per- 
fection, genius  alone  is  all-sufficient.  He  is  said,  when  en- 
gaged on  his  Lettres  Provinciates,  to  have  sometimes  employed 
twenty  days  in  perfecting  a  single  letter. 

Another  circumstance  which,  as  we  have  said,  indicates  Pas- 
cal's felicity  of  genius,  is  the  peculiar  delicacy  and  refinement 
of  his  wit.  We  say  its  delicacy  and  refinement,  for  the  mere 
conjunction  of  great  wit  with  great  aptitude  for  science  we  do 
not  consider  as  a  felicity  peculiar  to  Pascal.  It  is  the  character 
of  that  wit.  As  to  the  conjunction  of  distinguished  wit  in  one 
or  other  of  its  many  forms  with  elevated  genius,  it  is  far  too 
common  to  be  regarded  as  a  peculiarity  of  his  mind.  Para- 
doxical as  the  statement  may  at  first  sight  appear  to  many  who 
have  been  accustomed  to  consider  wisdom  and  wit  as  dwelling 
apart,  we  doubt  whether  there  is  any  one  attribute  so  common 
to  the  highest  order  of  mind,  whether  scientific  or  imaginative, 
as  some  form  or  other  of  this  quality.  The  names  of  Bacon, 
Shakspeare,  Plato,  Pascal,  Johnson,  Byron,  Scott,  and  many 
more,  will  instantly  occur  to  the  reader.  It  is  true  that  the 
history  of  the  species  reveals  to  us  minds  either  really  adapted 
BO  exclusively  to  the  abstrusest  branches  of  science,  or  so  inces- 
santly immersed  in  them,  that,  if  they  possess  the  faculty  of 
wit  at  all,  it  is  never  developed.  Aristotle  and  Newton — 
though  some  of  the  few  sayings  of  the  former  which  tradition 
has  preserved  are  not  a  little  racy — may  be  named  as  exam- 
ples. But,  in  general,  and  the  whole  history  of  science  and 
literature  will  show,  that  this  attribute,  in  one  or  other  of  its 
thousand  vaiieties,  has  formed  an  almost  perpetual  accompani- 
ment of  the  finest  order  of  minds.  And  we  may  add,  that,  a 
priori,  we  should  expect  it  to  be  so.  That  same  activity  of 
suggestion  and  aptitude  for  detecting  resemblances,  analogies, 


GENIUS    AND   WRITINGS    OF   PASCAL.  49 

»nd  differences,  which  qualify  genius  for  making  discoveries  in 
science,  or,  under  different  modifications,  for  evoking  the  crea- 
tions of  imagination,  may  well  be  supposed  not  to  desert  their 
possessor,  when,  for  playful  purposes,  and  in  moments  of  relax- 
ation, he  exercises  himself  in  the  detection  of  the  analogies  on 
which  wit  and  drollery  are  founded.  Yet,  clear  as  this  truth 
seems  to  be,  and  strongly  as  it  is  corroborated  by  the  history 
of  genius,  the  opposite  opinion  has  been,  we  believe,  oftener 
expressed,  and  the  highest  order  of  mind  pronounced  incom 
patible  with  such  a  conjunction. 

It  is  not,  then,  the  activity,  but  the  peculiar  delicacy  of  Fas- 
cal's  wit  which  renders  this  feature  of  his  genius  so  truly  wor- 
thy of  admiration  ; — the  more  admirable,  when  it  is  remem- 
bered that  the  wit  of  that  age,  and  especially  among  polemics, 
so  generally  took  the  form  of  gross  scurrility  and  buffoonery ; 
and,  even  when  it  did  not  sink  so  low  as  that,  was  overgrown 
with  every  species  of  quaintness  and  affectation.  Almost  in  no 
instance  was  it  found  pure  from  one  or  other  of  these  debase- 
ments. The  wit  of  Pascal,  on  the  contrary,  appears  even  now 
exquisitely  chaste  and  natural — attired  in  a  truly  Attic  sim- 
plicity of  form  and  expression.  In  one  quality — that  of  irony 
— nothing  appears  to  us  to  approach  it,  except  what  we  find  in 
the  pages  of  Plato,  between  whom  and  Pascal  (different,  and 
even  opposite,  as  they  were  in  many  respects)  it  were  easy  to 
trace  a  resemblance  in  other  points  besides  the  character  of 
their  wit.  Both  possessed  surpassing  acuteness  and  subtlety 
of  genius  in  the  department  of  abstract  science — both  delighted 
in  exploring  the  depths  of  man's  moral  nature — both  gazecl 
enamored  on  the  ideal  forms  of  moral  sublimity  and  loveliness 
— both  v/ere  characterized  by  eminent  beauty  of  intellect,  and 
both  were  absolute  masters  of  the  art.of  representing  thought 
—each  with  exquisite  refinement  of  taste,  and  all  the  gracc- 
of  language.  The  Grecian,  indeed,  possessed  a  far  more  opu- 
lent imagination,  and  indulged  in  &  more  gorgeous  style  than 
the  Frenchman ;  or  rather,  Plato  may  be  said  to  have  been  a 
Boaster  of  all  kinds  of  style.  His  dramatic  powers,  however, 
n  none  of  his  Dialogues,  can  be  greater  than  those  which  Pas- 

3 


50  GENIUS    AND   WRITINGS    OF   PASCAL. 

cal  has  displayed  in  bis  Leltres  Provinciates.  Nothing  could 
be  happier  for  his  purpose — that  of  throwing  into  strong  light 
the  monstrous  errors  of  the  system  he  opposed — than  the  ma- 
chinery he  has  selected.  The  affected  ignorance  and  naivete 
of  M.  Montalte,  in  quest  of  information  respecting  the  theologi- 
cal disputes  of  the  age,  and  especially  the  doctrines  of  the  Jes- 
uits— the  frankness  of  the  "worthy  Jesuit  Father,  of  whom  he 
geeks  instruction,  and  who,  in  the  boundless  admiration  of  his 
Order,  and  the  hope  of  making  a  convert,  details  without  hesi- 
tation, or  rather  with  triumph,  the  admirable  contrivances  by 
which  their  Casuists  had,  in  fact,  inverted  every  principle  of 
morals,  and  eluded  all  the  obligations  of  Christianity — the 
ironical  compliments  of  the  supposed  Novice,  intermingled 
with  objections  and  slightly  expressed  doubts,  delivered  with 
an  air  of  modest  ingenuousness  which  covets  only  further  light 
— the  arch  simplicity  with  which  he  involves  the  good  father 
in  the  most  perplexing  dilemmas — the  expressions  of  unsophis- 
ticated astonishment,  which  but  prompt  his  stolid  guide  eagerly 
to  make  good  every  assertion  by  a  proper  array  of  authorities 
— a  device  which,  as  Pascal  has  used  it,  converts  what  would 
have  been  in  other  hands  only  a  dull  catalogue  of  citations,  into 
a  source  of  perpetual  amusement — the  droll  consequences 
which,  with  infinite  affectation  of  simplicity,  he  draws  from  the 
worthy  father's  doctrines — the  logical  exigencies  into  which 
the  latter  is  thrown  in  the  attempt  to  solve  them, — all  these 
things  managed  as  only  Pascal  could  have  managed  them — 
render  the  book  as  amusing  as  any  novel.  The  form  of  let- 
ters enables  him  at  the  same  time  to  intersperse,  amid  the  con- 
versations they  record,  the  most  eloquent  and  glowing  invec- 
tives against  the  doctrines  he  exposes.  Voltaire's  well-known 
panegyric  does  not  exceed  the  truth — "  That  Moiiere's  best 
comedies  do  not  excel  them  in  wit,  nor  the  compositions  of 
Bossuet  in  sublimity."  "  This  work,"  says  d'Alembert,  "  is  so 
much  the  more  admirable,  as  Pascal,  in  composing  it,  seems  to 
have  theologized  two  things  which  seem  not  made  for  the  the- 
ology of  that  time — language  and  pleasantry." 

The  success  of  the  work  is  well  known.     By  his  inimitabl 


GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS    OF   PASCAL.  51 

pleasantry,  Pascal  succeeded  in  making  even  the  dullest  mat- 
ters of  scholastic  theology  and  Jesuitical  casuistry  as  interest- 
ing as  a  comedy ;  and,  by  his  little  volume,  did  more  to  ren- 
der the  formidable  Society  the  contempt  of  Europe,  than  was 
ever  done  by  all  its  other  enemies  put  together. 

The  Jesuits  had  nothing  for  it  but  to  inveigh  against  the 
letters  as  "the  immortal  liars" — lex  menteurs  immortelles.  To 
their  charge  of  having  garbled  citations,  and  tampered  with 
evidence  to  produce  an  unfair  impression  against  the  Society 
(practices  utterly  abhorrent  from  all  Pascal's  habits  of  mind 
and  dispositions  of  heart),  he  replies,  with  the  characteristic 
boldness  and  frankness  of  his  nature :  "  I  was  asked  if  I  re- 
pented of  having  written  Leu  Provinciales.  I  reply,  that,  far 
from  having  repented,  if  I  had  to  write  them  now,  I  would 
write  yet  more  strongly.  I  was  asked  why  I  have  given  the 
names  of  the  authors  from  whom  I  have  taken  all  the  abomi- 
nable propositions  I  have  cited.  I  answer,  that  if  I  lived  in  a 
city  where  there  were  a  dozen  fountains,  and  that  I  certainly 
knew  that  there  was  one  which  was  poisoned,  I  should  be 
obliged  to  advertise  all  the  world  to  draw  no  water  from  that 
fountain ;  and  as  they  might  think  that  it  was  a  pure  imagi- 
nation on  my  part,  I  should  be  obliged  to  name  him  who  had 
poisoned  it,  rather  than  expose  all  the  city  to  the  danger  of 
being  poisoned  by  it.  I  was  asked  why  I  had  employed  a 
pleasant,  jocose,  and  diverting  style.  I  reply,  that  if  I  had 
written  in  a  dogmatical  style,  it  would  have  been  only  the 
learned  who  would  have  read,  and  they  would  have  had  no 
necessity  to  do  it,  being  at  least  as  well  acquainted  with  the 
subject  as  myself;  thus,  I  thought  it  a  duty  to  write  so  as  to 
be  comprehended  by  women  and  men  of  the  world,  that  they 
might  know  the  danger  of  those  maxims  and  propositions 
which  were  then  universally  propagated,  and  of  which  they 
permitted  themselves  to  be  so  easily  persuaded.  I  was  asked, 
lastly,  if  I  had  myself  read  all  the  books  I  have  cited.  I  an- 
swer, No ;  for  in  that  case  it  would  have  been  necessary  to 
have  passed  my  life  in  reading  ver-  bad  books ;  but  I  had  read 
through  the  whole  of  Escobar  twice,  and,  for  the  others,  I 


52  GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL. 

caused  them  to  be  read  by  my  friends.  But  I  have  never  used 
a  single  passage  without  having  myself  read  it  in  the  hook 
cited,  or  without  having  examined  the  subject  on  which  it  ia 
adduced,  or  without  having  read  both  what  precedes  and  what 
follows  it,  in  order  that  I  might  not  run  the  risk  of  quctinjr 
what  was,  in  fact,  an  objection,  for  a  reply  to  it,  which  w.mld 
have  been  both  censurable  and  unjust." 

The  moral  aspects  of  Pascal's  character  are  as  inviting  A» 
thoss  of  his  intellect :  here,  too,  he  was  truly  great.  S(  rtu» 
infirmities,  indeed,  he  had,  for  he  was  no  more  than  man ;  he 
is  nevertheless  one  of  the  very  few  who  as  passionately  pur  lue 
the  acquisition  of  moral  excellence  as  the  quest  after  spectla- 
tive  truth ;  who,  practically  as  well  as  theoretically,  belie  v* 
that  the  highest  form  of  humanity  is  not  intellect,  but  good- 
ness. Usually  it  is  far  otherwise ;  there  is  no  sort  of  propor- 
tion between  the  diligence  and  assiduity  which  men  are  ordi- 
narily willing  to  expend  on  their  own  intellectual  and  moraJ 
culture.  Even  of  those  who  are  in  a  good  degree  under  the 
influence  of  moral  and  religious  principles,  and  whose  conduc? 
in  all  the  more  important  instances  of  life  shows  it,  how  few 
are  there  who  make  that  comprehensive  rectitude,  the  obliga- 
tion of  which  they  acknowledge,  and  the  ideal  of  which  they 
admire,  the  study  of  their  lives,  the  rule  of  their  daily  actions 
in  little  things  as  well  as  great ;  or  who  analyze  their  motive* 
and  school  their  hearts  (in  the  habitual  expressions  of  though* 
and  feeling)  in  conscious  obedience  to  it !  Nor  can  it  be  re- 
garded as  other  than  an  indication  that  there  is  something 
wrong  about  human  nature,  that  of  those  three  distinct  orders 
of  u  greatness,"  which  Pascal  has  so  exquisitely  discriminated 
in  his  Pensees — power,  intellect,  and  goodness — the  admiration 
inspired  by  the  two  first  should  be  so  much  greater  than  thai 
inspired  by  the  last.  The  reverence  for  genius,  in  particular 
often  degenerates  into  something  like  idolatry  ;  so  much  so  as 
to  lead  to  the  proverbial,  but  most  culpable  extenuation  ol 
grave  faults  on  the  part  of  biographers,  who  cannot  bear  to  see 
a  spot  on  the  bright  luminary  they  admire.  Even  if  mora 
excellence  he  theoretically  allowed  to  daim  equal  enthusiasm 


GENIUS    AND    WRITINGS    OF   PASCAL,  53 

rt,  in  fact,  rarely  receives  it.  How  vivid,  after  all,  is  the  senti- 
ment which  the  intellect  of  a  Bacon  or  a  Shakspeare  usually 
excites  in  the  young  and  ardent,  compared  with  that  with 
\vhich  they  regard  a  Howard  or  a  Martyn !  Yet  invincible  pa- 
tience, heroic  constancy,  that  honesty  of  purpose  which  is  proof 
against  all  flatteries  and  all  menace,  perfect  candor,  the  spirit 
of  unfeigned  humility,  benevolence,  and  charity,  are  surely  not 
ess  worthy  of  our  most  enthusiastic  admiration,  than  those 
qualities  of  mind  which  discover  a  new  law  of  nature,  or  pour 
'oKh  beautiful  strains  of  poetry. 

.t  is  one  of  the  proofs,  according  to  Paley's  ingenious  re- 
i.iark,  of  the  originality  of  the  Gospel,  and  one  of  the  marks  of 
the  divinity  of  its  origin,  that  it  chiefly  insists  on  the  cultiva- 
tion of  an  order  of  virtues  which  had  been  least  applauded  by 
man,  and  in  which,  notwithstanding,  man  was  most  deficient ; 
of  humility,  meekness,  patience,  rather  than  of  those  opposite 
virtues  to  which  the  active  principles  of  his  nature  would  most 
readily  prompt  him,  and  which  have  been  accordingly  the 
chief  objects  of  culture  and  admiration.  We  may  extend  the 
remark,  and  observe,  that  it  is  an  equal  indication  of  the  origi- 
nality of  the  Gospel  and  of  the  divinity  of  its  origin,  that  the 
ideal  of  greatness  which  it  has  presented  to  us  is  of  a  different 
character  from  that  which  has  chiefly  fixed  the  enthusiastic 
gaze  of  man.  It  is  not  one  in  which  power  and  intellect  con- 
stitute the  predominant  qualities,  associated  with  just  so  much 
virtue  as  serves  to  make  the  picture  free  from  all  grave  re- 
proach ;  but  the  .perfection  of  truth,  rectitude,  and  love — to 
which  even  the  attributes  of  superhuman  power  and  superhu- 
man wisdom,  with  which  they  are  blended,  are  so  wonderfully 
suboidinated,  that  they  seem,  as  they  are,  intrinsically  of  inferior 
lustre.  Glorious  as  is  their  light,  it  i^  absolutely  quenched  in 
the  brighter  effulgence  of  ineffable  and  supernal  goodness.  We 
think  of  Caesar  as  the  great  warrior  and  the  great  statesman ; 
of  Shakspeare  as  the  great  poet ;  of  Newton  as  the  great  philoso- 
pher :  when  the  Christian  thinks  of  his  Master,  though  he  believes 
him  to  be  possessed  of  immeasurably  greater  power  and  wisdom 
than  theirs — his  first,  last  thought  is,  that  he  is  THE  GOOD. 


54:  GENIUS   AND    WAITINGS   OF   PASCAL. 

The  character  of  greatness  in  Christ,  Pascal  has  beautifully 
touched.  "The  distance  between  Matter  and  Mind  typifies 

the  infinitely  greater  distance  between  Mind  and  Love 

All  the  eclat  of  external  greatness  has  no  lustre  for  men  pro- 
foundly engaged  in  intellectual  researches Their  great- 
ness, again,  is  invisible  to  the  noble  and  the  rich Great 

geniuses  have  their  empire,  their  splendor,  their  victory,  their 

renown These  are  seen  with  the  eyes  of  the  mind,  and 

that  is  sufficient Holy  men,  again,  have  their  empire, 

their  victory,  and  their  renown Archimedes  would  have 

been  venerable  even  without  rank.  He  gained  no  battles ;  but 
to  the  intellectual  world  he  has  bequeathed  great  discoveries. 
How  illustrious  does  he  look  in  their  eyes !  ....  In  like  man- 
ner Jesus  Christ,  without  external  splendor,  without  the  out- 
ward repute  of  science,  is  great  in  his  own  order  of  holiness. 
....  It  had  been  idle  in  Archimedes  to  have  insisted  on  his 
royal  descent  in  his  books  of  geometry.  And  it  had  been  as 
useless  for  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  assume  the  state  of  a  king 
for  the  purpose  of  giving  splendor  to  his  reign  of  holiness. 
But  he  came  fully  invested  with  the  lustre  of  his  own  order." 

Few  men  have  ever  dwelt  on  this  ideal  of  moral  perfection, 
or  sought  to  realize  its  image  in  themselves,  with  more  ardor 
than  Pascal — not  always,  indeed,  as  regards  the  mode,  with  as 
much  wisdom  as  ardor.  Yet,  upon  all  the  great  features  of  his 
moral  character,  one  dwells  with  the  serenest  delight.  Greatly 
is  he  is  to  be  admired,  he  is  yet  more  to  be  loved.  His  hu- 
mility and  simplicity,  conspicuous  as  his  genius  and  acquisi- 
tions, were  those  of  a  very  child.  The  favorite  of  science — re- 
peatedly crowned,  as  an  old  Greek  might  have  said  of  some 
distinguished  young  hero  at  Olympia,  with  the  fairest  laurels 
of  the  successful  mathematician  and  the  unrivalled  polemic — 
making  discoveries  even  in  his  youth  which  would  have  intox- 
.cated  many  men  even  to  madness — neither  pride  nor  vanity 
.found  admission  to  his  heart.  Philosophy  and  science  pro- 
duced on  him  only  their  proper  effect,  and  taught  him — not 
Dow  much  he  knew,  but  how  little ;  not  merely  what  he  had 
attained,  but  of  how  much  more  he  was  ignorant  His  perfec* 


GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS    OF   PA8CAJ*  55 

ove  of  truth  was  beautifully  blended  with  the  gentlest  charity ; 
and  his  contempt  of  fraud  and  sophistry  never  made  him  for- 
get, while  indignantly  exposing  them,  the  courtesies  of  the 
gentleman  and  the  moderation  of  the  Christian ;  and  thus  the 
severest  raillery  that  probably  ever  fell  from  human  lips,  flows 
on  in  a  stream  undiscolored  by  one  particle  of  malevolence, 
and  unruffled  by  one  expression  of  coarseness  or  bitterness. 
The  transparency  and  integrity  of  his  character  not  only  shone 
conspicuous  in  all  the  transactions  of  his  Ufa,  but  seem  even 
now  to  beam  upon  us  as  from  an  open  ingenuous  countenance, 
in  the  inimitable  frankness  and  transparency  of  his  style.  It 
is  impossible  to  read  the  passages  in  his  philosophical  writings, 
in  which  he  notices  or  refutes  the  calumnies  to  which  he  had 
been  exposed — by  which  it  was  sometimes  sought  to  defraud 
him  of  the  honor  of  the  discoveries  he  had  made,  and  in  one 
instance  to  cover  him  with  the  infamy  of  appropriating  discov- 
eries which  had  been  made  by  others — without  being  con- 
vinced of  the  perfect  candor  and  integrity  of  his  nature.1  Hia 
generosity  and  benevolence  were  unbounded  ;  so  much  so,  in- 
deed, as  to  become  almost  vices  by  excess ;  passing  far  beyond 
that  mean  in  which  the  Stagyrite  fixes  the  limits  of  all  virtue. 
He  even  beggared  himself  by  his  prodigal  benefactions ;  he 
did  what  few  do — mortgaged  even  his  expectancies  to  charity. 
To  all  which  we  may  add,  that  he  bore  the  prolonged  and  ex- 
truciating  sufferings  of  his  latter  years  with  a  patience  and 
fortitude  which  astonished  all  who  witnessed  them. 

The  failings  of -Pascal — for  to  these  we  must  advert — were 
the  result  partly  of  that  system  of  faith  in  which  he  had  been 
educated,  and  which,  though  he  did  so  much  to  expose  many 
of  the  worst  enormities  which  had  attached  themselves  to  it, 
«till  exercised,  considerable  influence-over  him.  It  is  lament 
able  to  see  such  a  mind  as  his  surrendering  itself  to  some  01 
the  worst  extravagances  of  asceticism.  Yet  the  fact  cannot  be 
denied  ;  nor  is  it  improbable  that  his  life — brief  perhaps  at  the 

»  See  more  particularly  hia  letters  to  FatLir  Noel,  M.  le  Pailleur,  and 
14.  de  Ribeyre. 


56  GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS    OF   PASCAL. 

•ongest,  considering  his  intense  study  and  his  feeble  constita 
tion — was  yet  made  briefer  by  these  pernicious  practices.  We 
are  told,  not  only  that  he  lived  on  the  plainest  fare  and  per- 
formed the  most  menial  offices  for  himself;  not  only  that  he 
practised  the  severest  abstinence  and  the  most  rigid  devotions, 
but  that  he  wore  beneath  his  clothes  a  girdle  of  iron,  with 
sharp  points  affixed  to  it :  and  that,  whenever  he  found  bis 
mind  disposed  to  wander  from  religious  subjects,  or  take  de- 
light in  things  around  him,  he  struck  the  girdle  with  his  elbow, 
and  forced  the  sharp  points  of  the  iron  into  his  side.  We  even 
see  but  too  clearly  that  his  views  of  life,  to  a  considerable  ex- 
tent, became  perverted.  He  cherished  mistrust  even  of  its 
blessings,  and  acted,  though  he  meant  it  not,  as  if  the  very 
gifts  of  God  were  to  be  received  with  suspicion — as  the  smiling 
tempters  to  evil — the  secret  enemies  of  our  well-being.  He 
often  expresses  himself  as  though  he  thought,  not  only  that 
suffering  is  necessary  to  the  moral  discipline  of  man,  but  as 
though  nothing  but  suffering  is  at  present  safe  for  him.  "  I 
can  approve,"  he  says  in  one  place,  "  only  of  those  who  seek 
in  tears  for  happiness."  "Disease,"  he  declares  in  another 
place,  "  is  the  natural  state  of  Christians."  It  is  evident  that 
the  great  and  gracious  Master,  in  whose  school  we  all  are,  and 
whose  various  dispensations  of  goodness  and  severity  are  dic- 
tated by  a  wisdom  greater  than  our  own,  does  not  think  so :  if 
he  did,  health  would  be  the  exception  and  disease  the  rule, 
it  is  but  too  true,  indeed,  that  not  only  is  suffering  necessary 
to  teach  us  our  feebleness  and  dependence,  and  to  abate  the 
pride  and  confidence  of  our  nature,  but  that  we  are  but  too  apt 
to  forget,  with  the  return  of  prosperity,  all  the  wise  reflections 
and  purposes  which  we  had  made  in  sorrow.  Jeremy  Taylor 
likens  us,  in  one  of  his  many  fanciful  images,  to  the  fabled 
lamps  in  the  tomb  of  Terentia,  which  "  burned  under  ground 
for  many  ages  together,"  but  which,  as  soon  as  ever  they  were 
Drought  into  the  air  and  saw  a  brighter  light,  went  out  in 
darkness.  "  So  long  as  we  are  in  the  retirements  of  sorrow, 
of  want,  of  fear,  of  sickness,  we  are  burning  and  shining  lamps 
but  when  God  lifts  us  up  from  the  gates  of  death,  and  carriet 


GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS    OF   PASCAL.  57 

as  abroad  into  the  open  air,  to  converse  with  prosperity  and 
temptations,  we  go  out  in  darkness,  and  we  cannot  be  preserved 
in  light  and  heat  but  by  still  dwelling  in  the  regions  of  sorrow." 
There  is  beauty,  and,  to  a  certain  extent,  truth  in  the  figure ; 
but  it  by  no  means  follows  that  continuous  suffering  would  be 
good  for  man :  on  the  contrary,  it  would  be  as  remote  from 
producing  the  perfection  of  our  moral  nature  as  unmitigated 
prosperity.  It  would  be  apt  to  produce  a  morbid  and  ghastly 
piety ;  the  "  bright  lamps"  of  which  Taylor  speaks,  would  still 
be  irradiating — only  a  tomb.  Since  the  end  of  suffering,  as  a 
moral  discipline,  is  only  to  enable  us  at  last  to  bear  unclouded 
happiness,  what  guarantee  can  we  now  have  of  its  beneficial 
effect  on  us,  except  by  partial  experiments  of  our  capacity  of 
recollecting  and  practising  the  lessons  of  adversity  in  intervals 
of  prosperity  ?  It  is  true  that  there  is  no  more  perilous  ordeal 
through  which  man  can  pass — no  greater  curse  which  can  be 
imposed  on  him,  as  he  is  at  present  constituted — than  that  of 
being  condemned  to  walk  his  life  long  in  the  sunlight  of  un- 
shaded prosperity.  His  eyes  ache  with  that  too  untempered 
brilliance — he  is  apt  to  be  smitten  with  a  moral  coup  de  soleil. 
But  it  as  little  follows  that  no  sunshine  is  good  for  us.  Ho 
who  made  us,  and  who  tutors  us,  alone  knows  what  is  the 
exact  measure  of  light  and  shade,  sun  and  cloud,  storm  and 
calm,  frost  and  heat,  which  will  best  tend  to  mature  those 
flowers  which  are  the  object  of  this  celestial  husbandry,  and 
which,  when  transplanted  into  the  paradise  of  God,  are  to 
bloom  there  forever  in  ainyranthine  loveliness.  Nor  can  it  be 
without  presumption  that  we  essay  to  interfere  with  these 
processes ;  our  highest  wisdom  is  to  fall  in  with  them.  And 
certain  it  is  that  every  man  will  find  by  experience  that  he 
has  enough  to  do,  to  bear  with  patienee  and  fortitude  the  real 
afflictions  with  which  God  may  visit  him,  without  venturing 
to  fill  up  the  intervals  in  which  He  has  left  him  ease,  and  even 
invites  him  to  gladness,  by  a  self-imposed  and  artificial  sorrow. 
Vay,  if  his  mind  be  well  constituted,  he  will  feel  that  the 
.earning  how  to  apply,  in  hours  of  happiness,  the  lessons 
which  he  has  learned  in  the  school  of  sorrow,  is  not  one  of  the 


58  GENIUS   AND   WEITING8   OF   PASCAL. 

least  difficult  lessons  which  sorrow  has  to  teach  him;  not  to 
mention  that  the  grateful  reception  of  God's  gifts  is  as  true  a 
part  of  duty — and  even  a  more  neglected  part  of  it — than  a 
patient  submission  to  his  chastisements. 

It  is  at  our  peril,  then,  that  we  seek  to  interfere  with  the 
discipline  which  is  provided  for  us.  He  who  acts  as  if  God 
had  mistaken  the  proportions  in  which  prosperity  and  adver- 
sity should  be  allotted  to  us,  and  seeks  by  hair-shirts,  prolonged 
abstinence,  and  self-imposed  penance,  to  render  more  perfect 
the  discipline  of  suffering,  only  enfeebles  instead  of  invigorating 
his  piety ;  and  resembles  one  of  those  hypochondriacal  patients 
— the  plague  and  torment  of  physicians — who  have  sought 
advice,  and  being  supposed  to  follow  it,  are  found  not  only 
taking  their  physician's  well-judged  prescriptions,  but  secretl} 
dosing  themselves  in  the  intervals  with  some  quackish  nos- 
trum. Thus  it  was  even  with  a  Pascal;  and  we  cannot  see  that 
the  experiment  was  attended  in  his  case  with  any  better  effects. 

It  is  indeed  pitiable  to  read,  that  during  his  last  days  his 
perverted  notions  induced  him  to  refrain  from  the  natural  ex- 
pressions of  fondness  and  gratitude  towards  his  sisters  am 
attendants,  lest  that  affection  with  which  they  regarded  hint 
should  become  inordinate;  lest  they  should  transfer  to  an 
earthly  creature  the  affection  due  only  to  the  Supreme.  Some- 
thing like  an  attempted  justification  of  such  conduct,  indeed, 
occurs  in  his  Pensees.  "II  est  injuste  qu'on  s'attache  a  moi, 
quoiqu'on  le  fasse  avec  plaisir  et  volontairement.  Je  trompe- 
rais  ceux  a  qui  j'en  ferais  naitre  le  desir ;  car  je  ne  suis  la  fin 
de  personne,  et  n'ai  pas  de  quoi  les  satisfaire.  Ne  suis-je  pas 
pret  a  mourir  ?  Et  ainsi  1'objet  de  leur  attachement  mourra 
done.  Comme  je  serais  coupable  de  faire  croire  une  faussete, 
quoique  je  la  persuadasse  doucement  et  qu'on  la  crut  avec 
plaisir,  et  qu'en  cela  on  me  fit  plaisir;  de  meme  je  suis  coupa- 
ble de  me  faire  aimer." — (Tom.  i.  p.  198.)  Madame  Peric; 
has  cited  this  passage  in  the  Life  of  her  brother,  as  accounting 
for  his  apparent  coldness  to  herself.1 

»  The  p  usage  of  Madame  Pe"rier  is  deeply  affecting.     "  Meanwhile,  ai 


GENIUS   AND    WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL.  59 

It  is  wonderful  that  a  mind  so  powerful  as  his  should  be 
Misled  by  a  pernicious  asceticism  to  adopt  such  maxims :  it  is 
etill  more  wonderful  that  a  heart  so  fond  should  have  been 
able  to  act  upon  them.  To  restrain,  even  in  his  dying  hours, 
expressions  of  tenderness  towards  those  whom  he  so  loved,  and 
who  so  loved  him — to  simulate  a  coldness  which  his  feelings 
belied — to  repress  the  sensibilities  of  a  grateful  and  confiding 
nature — to  inflict  a  pang,  by  affected  indifference,  on  hearts  as 
fond  as  his  own, — here  was  indeed  a  proof  of  the  truth  he  so 
passionately  meditated  upon,  the  "  greatness  and  the  misery" 
of  man,  of  his  strength  and  his  weakness  ; — weakness  in  sup- 
posing that  such  perversion  of  all  nature  could  ever  be  a  dic- 
tate of  duty1 — strength  in  performing  without  wincing,  a  task 
so  hard.  The  American  Indian,  bearing  unmoved  the  torture 
of  his  enemies,  exhibits  not,  we  may  rest  assured,  greater  for- 
titude than  Pascal,  when,  with  such  a  heart  as  his,  he  received 
in  silence  the  last  ministrations  of  his  devoted  friends,  and 
even  declined  with  cold  and  averted  eye  the  assiduities  of  their 
zealous  love. 

That  same  melancholy  temperament,  which,  united  with  a 
pernicious  asceticism,  made  him  avert  his  gaze  even  from  in- 
nocent pleasures,  and  suspect  a  serpent  lurking  in  every  form 
of  pleasure,  also  gave  to  his  representations  of  the  depravity 
of  our  nature  an  undue  intensity  and  Rembrandt-like  depth  of 
coloring.  His  mode  of  expression  is  often  such,  that  were  it 
not  for  what  we  otherwise  know  of  his  character,  it  might 
almost  be  mistake^  for  an  indication  of  misanthropy.  With 
this  vice,  accordingly,  Voltaire  does  not  hesitate  to  tax  him — 

"  Ce  fameux  e'crivain,  misanthrope  sublime." 
Nothing  can  be  more  unjust.     As  to  the  substance  of  what 

I  was  wholly  a  stranger  to  his  sentiments  on  this  point,  I  was  quite  sur- 
prised and  discouraged  at  the  rebuffs  he  would  give  me  upon  certain 
occasions.  I  told  my  sister  of  it,  and  not  without  complaining,  that  iny 
brother  was  unkind,  and  did  not  love  me ;  and  that  it  looked  to  me  as  if 
I  put  him  in  pain,  even  at  the  very  moment  I  was  studying  to  please  him, 
>nd  striving  to  perform  the  most  affectionate  offices  for  him  In  his  illnesa." 
— Yadamc  Pe'rier's  Memoirs  of  PaacaL 


30  GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL. 

Pascal  has  said  of  human  frailty  and  infirmity,  most  of  it  is  at 
once  verified  by  the  appeal  to  individual  consciousness ;  and 
as  to  the  manner,  we  are  not  to  forget  that  he  everywhere 
dwells  as  much  upon  the  "  greatness,"  as  upon  the  "  misery" 
of  man.  "  It  is  the  ruined  archangel,"  says  Hallam,  with  equal 
justness  and  beauty,  "  that  Pascal  delights  to  paint."  It  is 
equally  evident  that  he  is  habitually  inspired  by  a  desire  to 
lead  man  to  truth  and  happiness ;  nor  is  there  any  thing  more 
affecting  than  the  passage  with  which  he  closes  one  of  his 
expostulations  with  infidelity,  and  which  M.  Cousin  finally 
characterizes  as  "une  citation  glorieuse  a  Pascal."  "This 
argument,  you  say,  delights  me.  If  this  argument  pleases 
you,  and  appears  strong,  know  that  it  proceeds  from  one  who, 
both  before  and  after  it,  fell  on  his  knees  before  that  Infinite 
and  Invisible  Being  to  whom  he  has  subjected  his  whole  soul, 
to  pray  that  he  would  also  subject  you  to  himself  for  your 
good  and  for  his  glory ;  and  that  thus  Omnipotence  might 
give  efficacy  to  his  feebleness." 

^  addition  to  this,  it  must  be  said,  that  in  his  most  bitter 
reflections,  this  truly  humble  man  is  thinking  as  much  of  him- 
self as  of  others,  and  regards  Blaise  Pascal  as  but  a  type  of  the 
race  whose  degeneracy  he  mourns.  His  most  bitter  sarcasms 
often  terminate  with  a  special  application  to  the  writer.  Thus 
he  says,  "  Vanity  is  so  rooted  in  the  heart  of  man,  that  a  com- 
mon soldier,  a  scullion,  will  boast  of  himself,  and  will  have  his 
admirers.  It  is  the  same  with  the  philosophers.  Those  who 
write  would  fain  have  the  fame  of  having  written  well ;  and 
those  who  read  it,  would  have  the  glory  of  having  read  it : 
and  I,  who  am  writing,  probably  feel  the  same  desire,  and  not 
less  those  who  shall  read  it." 

It  is  true,  indeed,  that  some  of  his  reflections  are  as  caustic 
and  bitter  as  those  of  Kochefoucauld  himself.  For  example : 
!t  Curiosity  is  but  vanity.  Often  we  wish  to  know  more,  only 
that  we  may  talk  of  it.  People  would  never  traverse  the  sea  if 
they  were  never  to  speak  of  it, — for  the  mere  pleasure  of  seeing 
without  the  hope  of  ever  communicating  what  they  have  seen.' 

And  again  :  "  Man  is  so  constituted,  that,  by  merely  telling 


GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS    OF   PASCAL.  61 

him  he  is  a  fool,  he  will  at  length  believe  it ;  and,  if  lie  tells 
himself  so,  he  will  constrain  himself  to  believe  it.  For  man 
holds  ar  internal  intercourse  with  himself,  which  ought  to  be 
well  regulated,  since  even  here  '  Evil  communications  corrupt 
good  manners.' " 

It  may  not  be  without  amusement,  perhaps  instruction  f> 
cite  one  or  two  other  specimens  of  this  shrewd  and  caustic 
humor. 

"  Certain  authors,  speaking  of  their  works,  say,  '  My  book, 
my  commentary,  my  history.'  It  were  better  to  say,  '  Our 
book,  our  history,  our  commentary;'  for  generally  there  is 
more  in  it  belonging  to  others  than  to  themselves." 

"  I  lay  it  down  as  a  fact,  that  if  all  men  knew  what  they  say 
of  one  another,  there  would  not  be  four  friends  in  the  world. 
This  appears  by  the  quarrels  which  are  sometimes  caused  by 
indiscreet  reports." 

Still,  as  it  is  the  motive  which  gives  complexion  to  all  our 
moral  actions,  so  Pascal's  bitter  wisdom,  or  even  his  unjust 
satire,  is  something  very  different  from  misanthropy.  Byron 
found  an  apology  for  his  Cain  in  Milton's  delineation  of  Satan ; 
but  few  besides  himself  could  ever  see  its  force.  With  as 
little  reason  could  a  Timon  plead  the  example  of  a  Pascal, 
He  who  cannot  see  a  deep  benevolence  in  all  this  great  man 
wrote  respecting  our  corrupted  nature,  must  indeed  be  blind. 
It  is  with  no  demoniacal  chuckle,  no  smile  of  malicious  tri- 
umph, that  he  publishes  the  results  of  his  researches  into  the 
depths  of  man's  moral  nature.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  with 
profoundest  pity.  He  gazes  on  the  noble  ruins  of  humanity 
as  on  those  of  some  magnificent  temple,  and  longs  to  see  the 
fallen  columns  and  the  defaced  sculpture  restored.  With  what 
noble  eloquence — with  what  deep  sympathy  and  humanity — 
does  he  rebuke  the  levity  of  those  infidels  who  tell  us,  as  if  it 
were  matter  of  triumph,  that  we  are  "  the  inhabitants  of  a 
fatherless  and  forsaken  world  ;"  and  who  talk  as  if  their  vaunt- 
ed demonstration  of  the  vanity  of  our  immortal  hopes  gave 
them  a  peculiar  title  to  our  gratitude  and  admiration  !  ''  WhaJ 
advantage  is  it  to  us  to  hear  a  man  saying  that  he  has  thrown 


62  GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL. 

off  the  yoke;  that  he  does  not  think  there  is  any  God  who 
watches  over  his  actions;  that  he  considers  himself  as  the  sole 
•udge  of  his  conduct,  and  that  he  is  accountable  to  none  but 
himself?  Does  he  imagine  that  we  shall  hereafter  exercise 
special  confidence  in  him,  and  expect  from  him  consolation, 
advice,  succor  in  the  exigencies  of  life  ?  Do  such  men  im- 
agine that  it  is  any  matter  of  delight  to  us,  to  hear  that  they 
hold  that  our  soul  is  but  a  little  vapor  or  smoke,  and  that  he 
can  tell  us  this  in  an  assured  and  self-sufficient  tone  of  voice  ? 
Is  this,  then^a  thing  to  say  with  gayety  ?  Is  it  not  rather  a 
thing  to  be  said  with  tears,  as  the  saddest  thing  in  the 
world  ?" 

On  the  whole,  in  contemplating  the  richly  diversified  char- 
acteristics of  this  exalted  genius  in  its  different  moods  and 
phases — the  combination  of  sublimity  and  depth  with  lightness 
and  grace — of  the  noblest  aptitudes  for  abstract  speculation 
with  the  most  exquisite  delicacy  of  taste  and  the  utmost  sen- 
sibility of  feeling — of  profound  melancholy  with  the  happiest 
and  the  most  refined  humor  and  raillery — the  grandeur  of 
many  aspects  of  his  character,  and  the  loveliness  of  others,  we 
seem  to  be  reminded  of  the  contradictory  features  of  Alpine 
Bcenery,  where  all  forms  of  sublimity  and  beauty,  of  loveliness 
and  terror,  are  found  in  singular  proximity ;  where  upland  val- 
leys of  exquisite  verdure  and  softness  lie  at  the  foot  of  the 
eternal  glaciers ;  where  spots  of  purest  pastoral  repose  and 
beauty  smile  under  the  very  shadow  of  huge  snowy  peaks,  and 
form  the  entrance  of  those  savage  gorges,  in  which  reign  per- 
petual sterility  and  desolation — in  which  the  very  silence  is 
appalling,  broken  only  by  the  roar  of  the  distant  cataract  and 
the  lonely  thunder  of  the  avalanche. 

We  must  now  make  some  remarks  on  the  projected  treatise, 
of  which  the  Pensees  were  designed  to  form  the  rude  mate- 
rials. 

It  is  impossible  to  determine,  from  the  undeveloped  charac- 
ter of  the  Pensees,  the  precise  form  of  this  work,  and  which 
was  to  have  treated  of  the  primary  truths  of  all  religion,  anu 
»f  the  evidences  of  Christianity.  It  is  clear,  that  about  hal 


GENIUS    AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL.  63 

the  thoughts  which  relate  to  theology  at  all,  have  reference  to 
the  former.  In  his  time,  however,  both  subjects  might  have 
t^.-n  naturally  included  in  one  work.  The  great  deistical  con- 
tiv  ersies  of  Europe  had  not  yet  commenced,  and  there  had 
been  little  reason  to  discriminate  very  nicely  the  limits  of  the 
wo  investigations.  Pascal,  himself,  could  hardly  have  anti- 
cipated the  diversified  forms  which  the  subject  of  the  evidences 
of  Christianity  alone  would  assume — so  diversified,  indeed,  that 
probably  they  are  insusceptible  from  their  variety  (external 
and  internal)  of  being  fully  exhibited  by  one  mind,  or,  conse- 
quently, in  one  volume.  The  evidences  of  Christianity  almost 
form  a  science  of  themselves. 

Fragmentary  as  the  Pensees  are,  it  is  easy  to  see,  both  from 
their  general  tenor  and  from  the  character  of  the  author's 
mind,  where  the  principal  strength  of  such  a  work  would  lie. 
His  proofs  of  the  truths  of  natural  religion  would  have  been 
drawn  from  within,  rather  than  from  without ;  and  his  proofs 
of  the  truths  of  Christianity,  from  its  internal  rather  than  ex 
ternal  evidences  ; — including  in  this  term  "  internal,"  not  only 
the  adaptation  of  the  doctrines  revealed  to  the  moral  nature 
of  man,  but  whatsoever  indications  the  fabric  of  Scripture  it- 
self may  afford  of  the  divinity  of  its  origin. 

It  is  evident  that  all  these  topics  he  had  revolved  profoundly. 
None  had  explored  more  diligently  the  depths  of  man's  moral 
nature,  or  mused  more  profoundly  on  the  "  greatness  and  mis- 
ery of  man," — or  on  the  "  contrarieties"  which  characterize  his 
nature — or  on  the  remedies  for  his  infirmities  and  corruptions. 
And  there  are  few,  even  since  his  time,  who  seem  to  have 
appreciated  more  fully  the  evidences  of  Christianity,  arising 
from  indications  of  truth  in  the  genius,  structure,  and  style  of 
the  Scriptures ;  or  from  the  difficulties,  not  to  say  impossibili- 
ties, of  supposing  such  a  fiction  as  Christianity  the  probable 
product  of  any  human  artifice,  much  less  of  such  an  age,  coun- 
try, and,  above  all,  such  men  as  the  problem  limits  us  to.  In 
one  passage,  he  gives  expression  to  a  thought  which  has  been 
expanded  into  the  beautiful  and  eminently  original  work  of 
"aley,  entitled  Horce  Paulina.  He  says,  "  The  style  of  the 


64:  GENIUS    AND    WRITINGS    OF    PASCAL. 

Gospel  is  admirable  in  many  respects,  and,  among  others,  in 
this — that  there  is  not  a  single  invective  against  the  murdeivvs 
and  enemies  of  Jesus  Christ.  ...  If  the  modesty  of  the 
evangelical  historians  had  been  affected,  and,  in  common  with 
eo  many  other  traits  of  so  beautiful  a  character,  had  been 
affected  only  that  they  might  be  observed,  then,  if  they  had 
not  ventured  to  advert  to  it  themselves,  they  would  not  have 
failed  to  get  their  friends  to  remark  on  it,  to  their  advantage. 
But  as  they  acted  in  this  way  without  affectation,  and  from  a 
principle  altogether  disinterested,  they  never  provided  any  one 
to  make  such  a  criticism.  And,  in  my  judgment,  there  are 
many  points  of  this  character  which  have  never  been  noticed 
hitherto ;  and  this  testifies  to  the  simplicity  with  which  the 
thing  was  done." 

He  has  also,  with  characteristic  comprehensiveness,  con- 
densed into  a  single  paragraph  the  substance  of  the  celebrated 
volume  of  "Bampton  Lectures,"  on  the  contrasts  between 
Mahometanism  and  Christianity.  "  Mahomet  founded  his  sys- 
tem on  slaughter ;  Jesus  Christ  by  exposing  his  disciples  to 
death  :  Mahomet  by  forbidding  to  read ;  the  Apostles  by  com- 
manding it.  In  a  word,  so  opposite  is  the  plan  of  one  from 
that  of  the  other,  that  if  Mahomet  took  the  way  to  succeed 
according  to  human  calculation,  Jesus  Christ  certainly  took 
the  way  to  fail ;  and  instead  of  arguing,  that  since  Mahomet 
succeeded,  Jesus  Christ  might  also  succeed,  we  ought  rather 
to  say,  that  since  Mahomet  succeeded,  it  is  impossible  but  that 
Jesus  Christ  should  fail." 

On  the  subject  of  the  External  Evidences,  we  doubt  whether 
he  would  have  been  equally  successful, — partly  because  the 
spirit  of  accurate  historic  investigation  had  not  yet  been  de- 
veloped, and  partly  from  the  character  of  his  own  mind.  On 
ihe  subject  of  Miracles,  too,  he  scarcely  seems  to  have  woiked 
sis  conceptions  clear ;  and  in  relation  to  that  of  Prophecy,  he 
was  evidently  often  inclined  to  lay  undue  stress  on  analogies 
between  events  recorded  in  the  Old  Testament,  and  others  re- 
corded in  the  New,  where  Scripture  itself  is  silent  as  to  any 
connection  between  them  ; — analogies  in  one  or  two  cases  at 


GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL.  65 

fanciful  as  any  of  those  in  which  the  Fathers  saw  so  many 
types  and  prefigurations  of  undeveloped  truths.  This  dispo- 
sition to  forget  the  limits  between  the  analogies  which  may 
form  the  foundation  of  a  logical  argument,  and  those  which, 
after  all,  can  yield  only  poetical  illustrations,  has  too  often 
obtruded  itself  even  into  the  domain  of  physical  science,  and 
is  one  from  which  the  most  philosophic  minds,  if  they  have 
much  imaginativeness,  are  by  no  means  exempt.  Even  Bacon, 
in  several  instances,  has  been  the  dupe  of  this  delusion — one 
of  the  idola  tribus  which  he  was  so  anxious  to  expose. 

There  is  one  subject  on  which,  after  reading  the  Pensees, 
one  would  fain  have  seen  a  treatise  from  the  hand  of  Pascal. 
If  he  had  enjoyed  leisure,  health,  and  an  unclouded  mind, 
there  is  probably  no  man  who  could  have  Avritten  more  pro- 
foundly or  more  wisely  on  the  Prima  Philosophia — the  first 
principles  of  all  knowledge — the  limits  within  which  man  can 
hopefully  speculate — and  the  condition  and  principles  of  be- 
lief. On  all  these  subjects  he  had  reflected  much  and  deeply. 
His  remarks  on  the  position  of  man  between  "  the  two  infini- 
tudes," which  he  has  so  finally  illustrated — on  the  Dogmatists 
and  Pyrrhonists — on  the  influence  of  the  affections  and  pas- 
sions on  the  understanding — and  his  observations  entitled,  De 
V Art  de  Persuader  and  De  V Esprit  Geometrique,  —  these  all 
show  how  deeply  he  had  revolved  the  principal  topics  of  such 
a  work. 

We  have  before  alluded  to  the  charge  preferred  against 
Pascal  by  M.  Cousin,  of  no  less  than  universal  and  hopeless 
skepticism, — from  which,  as  is  said,  he  took  refuge  in  faith  by 
a  blind  effort  of  will,  without  evidence,  and  in  utter  despair  of 
obtaining  it.  M.  Cousin  even  goes  the  length  of  saying  that 
Pascal's  religion  "  was  not  the  solid  and  pleasant  fruit  which 
springs  from"  the  union  of  reason  and  feeling — de  la  raison  et 
du  coeur — in  a  soul  well  constituted  and  wisely  cultivated ;  it 
•3  a  bitter  fruit,  reared  in  a  region  desolated  by  doubt,  under 
Mie  arid  breath  of  despair."  He  also  tells  us,  that  "  the  very 
depth  of  Pascal's  soul  was  a  universal  skepticism,  from  which 
he  could  find  no  refuge  except  in  a  voluntary  blind  credulity.' 


GG  GENIUS    AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL. 

!tLefond  meme  de  F&me  de  Pascal  cst  un  scepticisme  universe!, 
eontre  lequel  il  ne  trouve  d'asile  que  dans  unefoi  volonlairement 
aveuyle" 

These  are  certainly  charges  which,  without  the  gravest  and 
most  decisive  proof,  ought  not  to  be  preferred  against  any 
man,  much  less  against  one  possessing  so  clear  and  powerful 
an  intellect  as  Pascal.  It  is  in  fact  the  most  degrading  picture 
which  can  be  presented  of  any  mind ;  for  what  weakness  car. 
be  more  pitiable,  or  what  inconsistency  more  gross,  than  that 
of  a  man  who,  by  a  mere  act  of  will — if  indeed  such  a  con- 
dition of  mind  be  conceivable — surrenders  himself  to  the  belief 
of  the  most  stupendous  doctrines,  while  he  at  the  same  time 
acknowledges  that  he  has  no  proof  whatever  of  their  cer- 
tainty ? 

We  have  great  respect  for  M.  Cousin  as  a  philosopher  and 
historian  of  philosophy,  and  we  willingly  render  him  the  hom- 
age of  our  thanks  for  his  liberal  and  enlightened  survey  of  the 
intellectual  philosophy  of  Scotland;  but  he  must  excuse  us 
for  dissenting  from,  and  freely  examining,  his  startling  view  of 
the  skepticism  of  Pascal.  That  charge  we  do  not  hesitate  to 
pronounce  unjust,  for  the  following  reasons : 

1.  It  appears  to  us  that  M.  Cousin  has  forgotten  that  Pascal 
by  no  means  denies  that  there  is  sufficient  evidence  of  the 
many  great  principles  to  which  skepticism  objects ;  he  only 
maintains  that  we  do  not  arrive  at  them  by  demonstration. 
He  has  powerfully  vindicated  the  certainty  of  those  intuitive 
principles  which  are  not  ascertained  by  reasoning,  but  are  pre- 
supposed in  every  exercise  of  reasoning.  Let  us  hear  him : 
M  The  only  strong  point,"  says  he,  "  of  the  Dogmatists  is,  that 
we  cannot  consistently  with  honesty  and  sincerity  doubt  our 
own  intuitive  principles.  .  .  .  We  know  the  truth,  not 
only  by  reasoning,  but  by  feeling,  and  by  a  vivid  and  luminous 
power  of  direct  comprehension ;  and  it  is  by  this  last  faculty 
that  we  discern  first  principles.  It  is  vain  for  reasoning,  which 
has  no  share  in  discovering  these  principles,  to  attempt  sub- 
rerting  them.  .  .  .  The  Pyrrhonists  who  attempt  this 
must  try  in  vain.  .  .  .  The  knowledge  of  first  principle^ 


GENICTS    AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL.  67 

>  rlii-  it.li.-as  •»;'  spnce,  time,  motion,  number,  matter,  is  as  une- 
jiiivoraily  ivriain  as  any  that  reasoning  imparts.  And,  after 
ail,  it  is  on  the  perceptions  of  feeling  and  common-sense  that 
reason  must  at  last  sustain  itself  and  base  its  argument.  .  .  . 
I'rinciples  are  perceived,  propositions  are  deduced :  each  part 
of  the  process  is  certain,  though  in  different  modes.  And  it 
is  as  ridiculous  that  reason  should  require  of  feeling  and 
perception  proofs  of  these  first  principles  before  she  assents 
to  them,  as  it  would  be  that  perception  should  require  from 
reason  an  intuitive  impression  of  all  the  propositions  at  which 
she  arrives.  This  weakness,  therefore,  ought  only  to  humble 
that  reason  which  would  constitute  herself  the  judge  of  all 
things,  but  not  to  invalidate  the  convictions  of  common-sense, 
as  if  reason '  only  could  be  our  guide  and  teacher."  Can  he 
who  thus  speaks  be  a  "  universal  skeptic,"  when  it  is  the  pe- 
culiar characteristic  of  Pyrrhonism — that  is,  universal  skepti- 
cism— to  controvert  the  certainty  of  principles  perceived  by 
intuition,  and  to  plume  itself  upon  having  successfully  done 
this,  when  it  has  shown  that  they  cannot  be  demonstrated  by 
reasoning  ? 

But  let  us  hear  him  still  more  expressly  on  the  subject  of 
Pyrrhonism.  "  Here,  then,  is  open  war  proclaimed  among 
men.  Each  must  take  a  side  ;  must  necessarily  range  himself 
with  the  Pyrrhonists  or  the  Dogmatists ;  for  he  who  would 
think  to  remain  neuter  is  a  Pyrrhonist  par  excellence.  He  who 
is  not  against  them  is  for  them.  What,  then,  must  a  person 
do  in  this  alternative  ?  Shall  he  doubt  of  every  thing  ?  Shall 
he  doubt  that  he  is  awake,  or  that  he  is  pinched,  or  burned  ? 
Shall  he  doubt  that  he  doubts  ?  Shall  he  doubt  that  he  is  ? 
We  cannot  get  so  far  as  this  ;  and  I  hold  it  to  be  a  fact,  that 
there  never  has  been  an  absolute  and  perfect  Pyrrhonist."  M. 
Cousin  must  suppose  Pascal  to  have  made  an  exception  in 


1  It  is  true  that,  in  these  and  many  similar  passages,  Pascal,  as  M.  Cousin 
rightly  observes,  often  employs  the  word  reason  as  if  it  were  synonymoui 
with  reasoning,     But  this  only  respects  £be  propriety  of  his  expressiota 
tia  meaning  is  surely  tolerably  clear. 


68  GENIUS    AND    WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL. 

favor  of  himself,  if  it  be  indeed  true  that  he  was  an  "  univer 
ual  skeptic." 

2.  It  does  not  appear  t<xus  that  M.  Cousin  has  sufficiently 
reflected,  that  in  those  cases  in  which  conclusions  truly  involve 
processes  of  reasoning,  Pascal  would  not  deny  that  the  prepon- 
derance of  proof  rested  with  the  truths  he  believed,  though  he 
denied  the  demonstrative  nature  of  that  proof.  And  he  applies 
this  with  perfect  fairness  to  the  evidences  of  Christianity,  as 
well  as  to  the  truths  of  natural  theology.  It  may  well  be  that 
minds  so  differently  constituted  as  those  of  Pascal  and  Cousin 
may  form  different  conclusions  as  to  the  degree  of  success 
which  may  attend  the  efforts  of  human  reasoning ;  but  a  man 
is  not  to  be  straightway  branded  with  the  name  of  a  universal 
skeptic,  because  he  believes  that  there  are  very  few  subjects 
on  which  evidence  can  be  said  to  be  demonstrative.  The  more 
deeply  a  man  reflects,  the  fewer  will  he  think  the  subjects  on 
which  this  species  of  certainty  can  be  obtained  ;  and  the  study 
neither  of  ancient  nor  of  modern  philosophy  will  convince  him 
that  he  is  far  wrong  in  this  conclusion.  But  he  will  not,  for 
all  that,  deny  that  there  is  sufficient  evidence  on  all  the  more 
important  subjects  to  form  the  belief  and  determine  the  con- 
duct of  man — evidence  of  precisely  the  same  nature  with  that 
which  does  form  the  one,  and  does  determine  the  other,  in  all 
the  ordinaiy  affairs  of  life.  And  this  alone,  where  he  rejects 
snch  evidence,  is  sufficient  to  condemn  him ;  for  what  right 
has  he  to  decline,  in  the  more  important  instances,  a  species 
and  degree  of  evidence  which  he  never  hesitates  to  act  upon 
in  all  other  cases  ? 

Now,  that  Pascal  believed  that  there  was  sufficient  evidence 
of  this  character,  for  all  the  fundamental  truths  of  religion,  is 
manifest  from  many  express  declarations.  "There  is  light 
plough,"  says  he,  "  for  those  whose  sincere  wish  is  to  see ;  and 
darkness  enough  to  confound  those  of  an  opposite  disposition." 
Of  Christianity,  he  says — "  It  is  impossible  to  see  all  the 
proofs  of  this  religion  combined  in  one  view,  without  feeling 
that  they  have  a  force  which  no  reasonable  man  can  with 
rtand."  "  The  proofs  of  our  religion  are  not  of  that  kind  tha» 


GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS    OF   PASCAL.  69 

we  can  say  they  are  geometrically  convincing.  .  .  But 
their  light  is  such  that  it  outshines,  or  at  the  least  equals,  the 
strongest  presumption  to  the  contrary  :  so  much  so,  that  sound 
reason  never  can  determine  not  to  accept  the  evidence,  and 
probably  it  is  only  the  corruption  and  depravity  of  the  heart 
that  do."  It  is  not  without  reason  that  M.  Faugere  says,  in 
reference  to  the  charge  of  skepticism  urged  against  Pascal — 
"Faith  and  reason  may  equally  claim  him.  If  they  sometimes 
appear  to  clash  in  his  mind,  it  is  because  he  wanted  time  not 
only  to  finish  the  work  on  which  he  was  engaged,  but  even  to 
complete  that  internal  revision — son  oeuvre  interieure — which 
is  a  kind  of  second  creation  of  genius,  and  to  melt  into  one 
harmonious  whole  the  diverse  elements  of  his  thoughts.  .  .  . 
Among  the  inedited  fragments  of  Pascal,  we  find  these  re- 
markable lines  :  "  II  taut  avoir  ces  trois  qualites  ;  Pyrrhonien, 
geometre,  Chretien  soumis ;  et  elles  s'accordent  et  se  temperent 
en  doatant  ou  il  fuut,  en  asmrant  ou  il  faut,  en  se  soumettant 
oil  il  faut"  These  bold  words  comprise  the  entire  history  of 
Pascal,  and  express  in  brief,  the  state  of  his  mind. 

3.  While  we  admit  that  the  severely  geometrical  cast  of 
Pascal's  mind,  as  well  as  his  gloomy  temperament,  have  led 
him  at  times  into  extravagant  expressions  on  this  subject,  so 
accomplished  a  critic  as  M.  Cousin  needs  not  to  be  told,  that 
it  is  not  fair  to  take  such  expressions  alone,  and  in  their  utmost 
strictness,  if  they  can  be  confronted  with  others  which  modify 
or  explain  them.  The  former,  in  common  candor,  are  to  be 
interpreted  only  in  connection  with  the  latter.  This  is  the 
course  we  always  pursue  in  interpreting  the  language  of  writ- 
ers who  have  indulged  in  unlimited  propositions ;  and  if  it  be 
found  even  impossible  to  harmonize  certain  expressions — if 
they  be  absolutely  contradictory — all  we  feel  at  liberty  to  do 
is  to  affirm  the  inconsistency  of  the  writer ;  not  to  assume  that 
he  meant  all  that  could  possibly  be  implied  in  the  one  class  of 
expressions,  and  nothing  by  the  other.  We  know  it  is  so  natu- 
ral tor  an  author  of  much  imagination  or  sensibility  to  give  an 
inordinately  strong  expression  to  a  present  thought  or  feeling, 
md  to  forget  the  judge  in  the  advocate,  that  he  must  be  taken 


70  GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL. 

in  another  mood,  or  rather  in  several,  if  we  wish  to  ascertain 
the  true  mean  of  his  sentiments.  Pascal  has,  in  one  of  his 
Pemees,  indicated  this  oiily  reasonable  method  of  procedure. 

Now,  M.  Cousin  is  surely  aware  of  the  fact,  that  the  expres- 
sions to  which  he  has  given  such  an  unfavorable  interpretation 
may  be  easily  confronted  with  others  of  a  different  tendency. 
He  himself,  indeed,  proclaims  it.  He  even  says,  no  man  ever 
contradicted  himself  more  than  Pascal.  "  Jamais  homme  ne 
iest  plus  contreditr  "  Confounding,"  says  he,  "  reasoning  and 
reason,  forgetting  that  he  has  himself  judiciously  discriminated 
primary  and  indemonstrable  truths,  discovered  to  us  by  that 
spontaneous  intuition  of  reason — which  we  also  with  him  call 
instinct,  sentiment,  feeling — from  truths  which  are  deduced 
from  them  by  the  method  of  reasoning,  or  which  we  draw  from 
experience  by  induction  ; — forgetting  that  he  has  thus  himseli 
replied  beforehand  to  all  the  attacks  of  skepticism,  Pascal  de- 
mands all  these  principles  from  experience  and  reasoning,  and 
by  that  means,  without  much  trouble,  confounds  them  all." 
Now,  we  do  not  stay  to  inquire  here  into  the  justness  of  the 
latter  part  of  this  representation ;  but  we  simply  ask,  why 
should  all  "  the  replies"  which,  as  our  author  admits,  "  Pascal 
has  himself  made  to  skepticism,"  go  for  nothing,  and  only  the 
sentences  in  which  he  appears  to  favor  it  be  remembered; 
and  not  only  remembered,  but  taken  as  the  sole  exponents  of 
his  opinions  ?  Surely  a  skeptic  might  as  well  take  the  oppo- 
site side,  and  say  :  "  Alas !  after  Pascal  seems  in  many  expres- 
sions to  have  conceded  much  to  skepticism,  he  forgets  all  lie 
had  said ;  and  shows,  by  his  whole  talk  of  '  intuitive  truths,' 
and  '  sentiment,'  and  '  feeling,'  that  he  is  no  better  than  a  dog- 
matist." Might  we  not  say  to  the  two  objectors,  "  Worthy 
friends  !  you  are  the  two  knights  in  the  fable  ; — one  is  looking 
on  the  golden,  and  the  other  on  the  silver  side  of  the  same 
ihield." 

4.  Nor  is  it  to  be  forgotten,  that  while  such  a  -mode  of  inter- 
relation as  that  of  M.  Cousin  would  hardly  be  just  in  the  case 
of  any  work  of  any  author,  it  is  especially  unfair  to  apply  it  to 
»uch  a  work,  or  rather  mere  materials  of  a  work,  as  the  Pen? 


GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS    OF   PASCAL.  71 

tees.  They  were,  we  are  to  recollect,  mere  notes  for  1:  ascal's 
own  use,  and  were  never  intended  to  be  published  as  they  are. 
Many  of  them  are  altogether  imperfect  and  undeveloped ;  some 
scarcely  intelligible.  It  is  impossible  to  tell  with  what  modifi- 
cations, and  in  what  connection,  they  would  have  stood  in  the 
matured  form  which  the  master-mind,  hastily  recording  them 
for  private  reference,  would  have  ultimately  given  them.  Nay, 
there  can  scarcely  be  a  doubt  that  many  of  them  were  mere 
objections  which  Pascal  noted  for  refutation — not  opinions  tc 
be  maintained  by  him ;  and  this  in  many  places  may  be  not 
obscurely  inferred.  Some,  again,  are  mere  quotations  from 
Montaigne  and  other  authors,  extracted  for  some  unknown 
purpose,  but  not  distinguished  in  these  private  memoranda 
from  the  writer's  own  expressions ;  so  that  the  first  editors  of 
the  Pensees  actually  printed  them  in  some  cases  as  his.  And 
lastly,  some  were  dictated,  in  moments  of  sickness  and  pain,  to 
an  old  domestic,  who  has  scrawled  them  in  a  fashion  which 
sufficiently  shows  that  it  is  very  possible  that  some  errors  may 
lie  with  the  amanuensis.1  Yet  M.  Cousin,  while  straining  every 
expression  on  which  he  founds  his  charge  of  skepticism  to  its 
utmost  strictness  of  literary  meaning,  never  seems  to  have 
adverted  to  one  of  these  very  reasonable  considerations. 

5.  The  weight  which  any  deliberate  opinion  of  M.  Cousin 
must  reasonably  possess,  may  in  this  case  well  be  confronted 
with  that  of  Layle,  whose  notorious  skepticism  would  have 
been  but  too  glad  to  find  an  ally  in  so  admired  a  genius  as 
Pascal,  had  there  been  any  plausible  pretext  on  which  to  claim 
him.     Yet  that  subtle  and  acute  critic  declares,  that  Pascal 
knew  perfectly  well  what  to  render  to  faith  and  what  to  reason. 

6.  In  our  judgment  Pascal's  projected  work  is  itself  a  suffi- 
cient confutation  of  M.  Cousin's  supposition.     For,  did  evei 
man  before  meditate  an  elaborate  work  on  the  "  evidences"  01 


1  Of  one  of  these  expressions,  on  which  M.  Cousin  na?  founded  much 
M.  Faugere  says:  "Tout  ce  mo-^eau,  dict£  a  une  personne  visiblement 
fort  peu  lettree,  presente  i;a  et  la  des  obscuritc's  qui  vienuent  sans  doute  d« 
i' inexperience  du  secretaire." — Tom.  ii,  p.  114. 


72  GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL. 

truths  for  which  he  believed  no  evidence  but  a  blind  faith  could 
be  given  ? 

7.  We  maintain,  lastly,  t'nat  even  if  it  were  proved  (which 
is,  doubtless,  very  true)  that  Pascal,  at  different  periods  and  in 
different  moods  of  mind,  formed  varying  estimates  of  the  evi- 
dence on  behalf  of  the  great  truths  in  which  he  was  so  sincere 
a  believer;  or  even  (which  may  possibly  be  true)  that  for 
transient  intervals  he  doubted  the  collusiveness  of  that  evi- 
dence altogether,  these  variations  would  be  far  from  justifying 
a  charge  of  "  universal  and  habitual  skepticism," — such  mo- 
mentary differences  of  thought  and  mood  having  been  notori- 
ously experienced  by  many  of  the  greatest  minds.  With  some 
remarks  on  this  subject,  which  may  possibly  be  serviceable  to 
minds  peculiarly  liable  to  attacks  of  skepticism,  and  calculated 
to  teach  all  of  us  charity  in  judging  of  others,  we  shall  close 
the  present  article. 

We  confess,  then,  that  it  by  no  means  appears  to  us  that  a 
momentary  invasion  of  doubt,  or  even  of  skepticism,  is  incon- 
sistent with  a  prevailing  and  habitual  faith,  founded  on  an  in- 
telligent conviction  of  a  preponderance  of  reasons  to  justify  it; 
though  those  reasons  may  be  felt  to  fall  far  short  of  absolute 
demonstration.  There  may  be  a  profound  impression  that  the 
reasons  which  justify  habitual  belief  in  any  truth  established 
only  on  moral  evidence,  or  on  a  calculation  of  probabilities, 
are  so  varied  and  powerful — so  vast  is  their  .mm — as  to  leave, 
in  ordinary  moods  of  mind,  no  doubt  as  to  the  conclusion*  to 
which  they  point,  and  the  practical  course  of  conduct  which 
alone  they  can  justify.  And  yet  it  is  quite  true,  that  from  the 
infirmities  of  our  nature — from  the  momentary  strength  which 
the  most  casual  circumstances  may  give  to  opposing  objections 
— from  the  depressing  influence  of  sorrow — of  a  trivial  indis- 
position— of  a  transient  fit  of  melancholy — of  impaired  diges- 
tion— even  of  a  variation  of  the  weather  (for  on  all  these  hu- 
miliating conditions  does  the  boasted  soundness  of  human  rea- 
son depend) — a  man  shall  for  an  hour  or  a  day  really  doubt 
of  that  of  which  he  never  doubted  before,  and  of  which  he 
would  be  ashamed  to  doubt  to-morrow.  And  especially  is  this 


UEJ^m:S   AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL.  73 

the  case  in  those  who,  like  Pascal,  possess  exquisite  sensibility 
or  are  liable  to  fits  of  profound  depression.  As  they  look  upon 
truth  through  the  medium  of  cheerful  or  gloomy  feelings,  truth 
herself  varies  like  a  landscape,  as  seen  in  a  bright  sunshine  or 
on  a  cloudy  day.  Pascal  himself,  in  those  reveries  in  whicn 
he  loved  to  indulge  on  the  mingled  "greatness  and  misery  ot 
man,"  has  frequently  depicted  the  dependence  of  the  most 
powerful  mind,  even  in  the  bare  exercise  of  its  exalted  facul- 
ties, on  the  most  insignificant  circumstances.  We  have  cited, 
in  the  early  part  of  this  article,  one  striking  passage  to  this 
effect.  In  another  place  he  says  :  "  Place  the  greatest  philoso- 
pher in  the  world  on  a  plank,  wider  than  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary for  safety,  and  yet,  if  there  is  a  precipice  below  him, 
though  reason  may  convince  him  of  his  security,  his  imagina- 
tion will  prevail.  There  are  many  who  could  not  even  bear 
the  thought  of  it  without  paleness  and  agitation."  Another 
very  powerful  representation,  to  the  same  effect,  may  be  found 
on  the  same  page,  where,  after  describing  a  "  venerable  judge," 
who  may  seem  "  under  the  control  of  a  pure  and  dignified  wis- 
dom," and  enumerating  several  petty  trials  "  of  his  exemplary 
gravity,"  Pascal  declares,  that,  let  any  one  of  these  befall  him, 
"  and  he  will  engage  for  the  loss  of  the  judge's  self-possession !" 
Nor  are  the  causes  which  disturb  the  exercise  of  the  reason 
merely  physical :  moral  causes  are  yet  more  powerful ;  as  we 
wish,  hope,  fear,  humiliating  as  the  fact  is,  so  do  we  proceed 
to  judge  of  evidence.  Reason,  that  vaunted  guide  of  life,  no- 
where exists  as  a  pure  and  colorless  light,  but  is  perpetually 
tinctured  by  the  medium  through  which  it  passes ;  it  flows  in 
upon  us  through  painted  windows.  And  thus  it  is,  that  per- 
haps scarcely  once  in  ten  thousand  times,  probably  never,  does 
man  deliver  a  judgment  on  evidence-simply  and  absolutely  ju- 
dicial. "  The  heart,"  says  Pascal,  with  great  truth,  "  has  its 
reasons,  which  reason  cannot  apprehend."  "The  will,"  says 
be.  in  another  place,  "  is  one  of  the  principal  instruments  of 
belief;  not  that  it  creates  belief,  but  because  things  are  true  or 
false  according  to  the  aspect  in  which  we  regard  them.  The 
will,  which  is  more  inclined  to  one  tning  than  another,  turns 

4 


74-  tJENIUS   AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL. 

away  tho  mind  from  the  consideration  of  those  things  which  it 
loves  not  to  contemplate  ;  and  thus  the  mind,  moving  with  the 
will,  stops  to  observe  that  which  it  approves,  and  forms  its 
judgment  by  what  it  sees." 

Most  emphatically  is  this  the  case  where  the  moral  state  is 
habitually  opposed  to  the  conclusions  to  which  the  preponder- 
ance of  evidence  points.  This  is  so  notorious,  in  relation  tc 
the  fundamental  truths  of  morals  and  religion,  that  there  are 
probably  few  who  really  disbelieve  them,  or  profess  to  do  so, 
who  (if  they  examine  themselves  at  all)  are  not  conscious  that 
the  "  wish  is  father  to  the  thought."  And  what  is  true  of  ha- 
bitual states  of  moral  feeling,  is  also,  in  proportion,  true  of  more 
transient  states. 

Certain,  however,  it  is,  that  from  one  to  the  other  of  the 
above  causes,  or  from  a  combination  of  several,  neither  has  the 
understanding  the  absolute  dominion  in  the  formation  of  our 
judgments,  nor  does  she  occupy  an  "  unshaken  throne."  '  A 
seditious  rabble  of  doubts,  from  time  to  time,  rise  to  dispute 
her  empire.  Even  where  the  mind,  in  its  habitual  states,  is 
unconscious  of  any  remaining  doubt, — where  it  reposes  in  a 
vast  preponderance  of  evidence  in  favor  of  this  or  that  conclu- 
sion,— there  may  yet  be,  from  one  or  other  of  the  disturbing 
causes  adverted  to,  a  momentary  eclipse  of  that  light  in  which 
the  soul  seemed  to  dwell ;  a  momentary  vibration  of  that  judg- 
ment which  we  so  often  flattered  ourselves  was  poised  forever. 
Yet  this  no  more  argues  the  want  of  habitual  faith,  than  the 
variations  of  the  compass  argue  the  severance  of  the  connec- 
tion between  the  magnet  and  the  pole ;  or,  than  the  oscillations 
of  the  *  rocking  stone"  argue  that  the  solid  mass  can  be  heaved 
from  its  bed.  A  child  may  shake  it,  but  a  giant  cannot  over- 
turn it. 

And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  there  are,  we  apprehei-d,  very  few 
who  have  not  been  conscious  of  sudden  and  almost  unaccount- 
able disturbances  of  the  intellectual  atmosphere,  unaccountable 
even  after  the  equilibrium  has  been  restored,  and  the  air  has 
again  become  serene  and  tranquil.  In  these  momentary  fluc- 
tuations, whether  arising  from  moral  or  physical  causes,  01 


GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL.  .75 

from  causes  of  both  kinds — from  nervous  depression,  or  a  fit 
of  melancholy,  or  an  attack  of  pain,  or  harassing  anxieties,  or 
the  loss  of  friends,  or  their  misfortunes  and  calamities,  or  sig- 
nal triumphs  of  baseness,  or  signal  discomfitures  of  virtue,  or, 
above  all,  from  conscious  neglect  of  duty — a  man  shall  some- 
times feel  as  if  he  had  lost  sight  even  of  those  primeval  truths 
on  which  he  has  been  accustomed  to  gaze  as  on  the  stars  of 
the  firmament — -bright,  serene,  and  unchangeable;  even  such 
truths  as  the  existence  of  God,  his  paternal  government  of  the 
world,  and  the  divine  origin  of  Christianity.  In  these  moods, 
objections  which  he  thought  had  long  since  been  dead  and 
buried,  start  again  into  sudden  existence.  They  do  more ;  like 
the  escaped  genius  of  the  Arabian  Nights,  who  rises  from  the 
little  bottle  in  which  he  had  been  imprisoned  in  the  shape  of 
a  thin  smoke,  which  finally  assumes  gigantic  outlines,  and  tow- 
ers to  the  skies,  these  flimsy  objections  dilate  into  monstrous 
dimensions,  and  fill  the  whole  sphere  of  mental  vision.  The 
arguments  by  which  we  have  been  accustomed  to  combat  them 
seem  to  have  vanished,  or,  if  they  appear  at  all,  look  dimin- 
ished in  force  and  vividness.  If  we  may  pursue  the  allusion 
we  have  just  made,  we  even  wonder  how  such  mighty  forms 
should  ever  have  been  compressed  into  so  narrow  a  space. 
Bunyan  tells  us,  that  when  his  pilgrims,  under  the  perturba- 
tion produced  by  previous  terrible  visions,  turned  the  perspec- 
tive glass  towards  the  Celestial  City  from  the  summits  of  the 
Delectable  Mountains,  "  their  hands  shook  so  that  they  could 
not  steadily  look  through  the  instrument ;  yet  they  thought 
they  saw  something  like  the  gate,  and  also  some  of  the  glory 
of  the  place."  It  is  even  so  with  many  of  the  moods  in  which 
other  "  pilgrims"  attempt  to  gaze  in  the  same  direction,  a  deep 
haze  seems  to  have  settled  over  the  golden  pinnacles  and  the 
"  gates  of  pearl ;"  they,  for  a  moment,  doubt  whether  what 
others  declare  they  have  seen,  and  what  they  flatter  themselves 
they  have  seen  themselves,  be  any  thing  else  than  a  gorgeous 
vision  in  the  clouds;  and  "faith"  is  no  longer  "the  substance 
( f  things  hoped  for,  and  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen." 
And  as  there  are  probably  few  who  have  profoundly  inves- 


76  GENIUS   AND  WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL. 

tigated  the  evidences  of  truth,  who  have  not  felt  themselvea 
for  a  moment  at  least,  and  sometimes  for  a  yet  longer  space, 
as  if  on  the  verge  of  universal  skepticism,  and  about  to  be 
driven  forth  without  star  or  compass  on  a  boundless  ocean  of 
doubt  and  perplexity,  so  these  states  of  feeling  are  peculiarly 
apt  to  infest  the  highest  order  of  minds.  For  if,  on  the  one 
hand,  these  can  best  discern  and  estimate  the  evidence  which 
proves  any  truth,  they,  on  the  other,  can  see  most  clearly  and 
feel  most  strongly  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  objections  which 
oppose  it ;  while  they  are,  at  the  same  time,  just  as  liable  as 
the  vulgar  to  the  disturbing  influences  already  adverted  to. 
This  liability  is  of  course  doubled,  when  its  subject,  as  in  the 
case  of  Pascal,  labors  under  the  disadvantage  of  a  gloomy  tem- 
perament. 

A  circumstance  which  in  these  conflicts  of  mind  often  gives 
skeptical  objections  an  undue  advantage,  is,  that  the  great 
truths  which  it  is  more  especially  apt  to  assail,  are  generally 
the  result  of  an  accumulation  of  proof  by  induction,  or  are  even 
dependent  on  quite  separate  trains  of  argument.  The  mind, 
therefore,  cannot  comprehend  them  at  a  glance,  and  feel  at 
once  their  integrated  force,  but  must  examine  them  in  detail 
by  successive  acts  of  mind, — just  as  we  take  the  measurement 
of  magnitudes  too  vast  to  be  seen  at  once  in  successive  small 
portions.  The  existence  of  God,  the  moral  government  of  the 
world,  the  divine  origin  of  Christianity,  are  all  truths  of  this 
stamp.  Pascal,  in  one  of  his  Penfteex,  refers  to  this  infirmity 
•of  the  logical  faculties.  He  justly  observes  :  "  To  have  a  se- 
ries of  proofs  incessantly  before  the  mind  is  beyond  our  power." 
D'en  avoir  tovjours  les  prev.ves  presentes,  c'est  trop  d"1  affaire. 

From  the  inability  of  the  mind  to  retain  in  perpetuity,  or  to 
•  vmprehend  at  a  glance  a  long  chain  of  evidence,  or  the  total 
effect  of  various  lines  of  argument,  Pascal  truly  observes,  that 
it  is  not  sufficient  for  the  security  of  our  convictions,  and  their 
due  influence  over  our  belief  and  practice,  that  we  have  proved 
them  once  for  all  by  a  process  of  reasoning ;  they  must  be,  i 
possible,  tinctured  and  colored  by  the  imagination,  informer 
*nd  animated  by  fueling,  and  rendered  vigorous  and  practice 


GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL.  77 

bv  habit.  His  words  are  well  worth  citing :  "  Reason  acta 
slowly,  and  with  so  many  views  upon  so  many  principles  which 
it  is  necessary  should  be  always  present,  that  it  is  perpetually 
dropping  asleep,  and  is  lost  for  want  of  having  all  its  princi- 
ples present  to  it.  The  affections  do  not  act  thus ;  they  act 
instantaneously,  and  are  always  ready  for  action.  It  is  neces- 
sary, therefore,  to  imbue  our  faith  with  feeling,  otherwise  it 
will  be  always  vacillating." 

It  will  not,  of  course,  be  imagined  that,  in  the  observations 
we  have  now  made,  we  are  disposed  to  be  the  apologists  ol 
skepticism  ;  or  even,  so  far  as  it  is  yielded  to,  of  that  transient 
doubt  to  which  we  affirm  even  the  most  powerful  minds  are 
not  only  liable,  but  liable  in  defiance  of  what  are  ordinarily 
their  strong  convictions.  So  far  as  such  states  of  mind  are  in- 
voluntary, and  for  an  instant  they  often  are  (till,  in  fact,  the 
mind  collects  itself,  and  repels  them),  they  are  of  course  the 
object  not  of  blame,  but  of  pity.  So  far  as  they  are  dependent 
upon  fluctuations  of  feeling,  or  upon  physical  causes  which  we 
can  at  all  modify  or  control,  it  is  our  duty  to  summon  the  mind 
to  resist  the  assault,  and  reflect  on  the  nature  of  tliat  evidence 
which  has  so  often  appeared  to  us  little  less  than  demonstrative. 

We  are  not,  then,  the  apologists  of  skepticism,  or  any  thing 
approaching  it ;  we  are  merely  stating  a  psychological  fact,  for 
the  proof  of  which  we  appeal  to  the  recorded  confessions  of 
many  great  minds,  and  to  the  experience  of  those  who  have 
reflected  deeply  enough  on  any  large  and  difficult  subject,  to 
know  what  can  be  said  for  or  against  it. 

The  asserted  fact  is,  that  habitual  belief  of  the  sincerest  and 
strongest  character  is  sometimes  checkered  with  transient  fils 
of  doubt  and  misgiving ;  and  that  even  where  there  is  no  ac- 
tual disbelief — no,  not  for  a  moment — -the  mind  may,  in  some 
)f  its  moods,  form  a  very  diminished  estimate  of  the  evidence 
on  which  belief  is  founded,  and  grievously  understate  it  accord- 
ingly. We  believe  that  both  these  states  of  mind  were  occa 
»ionally  experienced  by  Pascal — the  latter,  however,  much 
jnore  frequently  thar  the  former ;  and  hence,  as  we  apprehend, 
ire  we  to  ac:ount  for  those  passages  in  which  he  speaks  of  th« 


78  GENIUS    AND   WRITINGS   OF  PASCAL. 

evidence  for  the  existence  of  a  God,  or  for  the  truth  of  Chris- 
tianity, as  less  conclusive  than  he  ordinarily  believed,  or  than 
he  has  at  other  times  declared  them.  Au  such  times,  the 
clouds  may  be  supposed  to  have  hung  low  upon  this  lofty 
mind. 

So  little  inconsistent  with  a  habit  of  intelligent  faith  are  such 
transient  invasions  of  doubt,  or  such  diminished  perceptions  ol 
the  evidence  of  truth,  that  it  may  even  be  said  that  it  is  only 
those  who  haye  in  some  measure  experienced  them,  who  can 
be  said,  in  the  highest  sense,  to  believe  at  all.  He  who  has> 
never  had  a  doubt,  who  believes  what  he  believes  for  reasons 
which  he  thinks  as  irrefragable  (if  that  be  possible)  as  those  of 
a  mathematical  demonstration,  ought  not  to  be  said  so  much 
to  believe  as  to  know  ;  his  belief  is  to  him  knowledge,  and  his 
mind  stands  in  the  same  relation  to  it,  however  erroneous  and 
absurd  that  belief  may  be.  It  is  rather  he  who  believes — not 
indeed  without  the  exercise  of  his  reason,  but  without  the  full 
satisfaction  of  his  reason — with  a  knowledge  and  appreciation 
of  formidable  objections — it  is  this  man  who  ixiay  most  truly 
be  said  intelligently  to  believe. 

While  it  is  true  that  we  are  called  upon  to  receive  the  great 
truths  of  Theology,  whether  natural  or  revealed,  on  evidence 
which  is  less  than  demonstrative,  we  are  not  to  forget  that  no 
subjects  out  of  the  sciences  of  magnitude  and  number  admit 
of  any  such  demonstration.  We  are  required  to  do  no  more 
in  religion  than  we  are  in  fact  necessitated  to  do  in  all  the 
affaire  of  common  life — that  is,  to  form  our  conclusions  upon  a 
sincere  and  diligent  investigation  of  moral  evidence.  And, 
>fter  all,  such  an  arrangement  is  not  only  in  harmonious  anal- 
ogy with  all  the  conditions  of  our  ordinary  life,  but,  if  the  pres- 
ent world  be  indeed  a  state  of  moral  probation — if  it  be  de- 
signed to  test  our  diligence  and  sincerity,  to  teach  us  what  is 
BO  suitable  in  a  finite  and  created  being,  a  submissive  and  con- 
fiding posture  of  mind  towards  the  Infinite  Creator — such  an 
arrangement  is  essential  to  our  course  of  moral  discipline  and 
education.  If  we  are  icquired  to  believe  nothing  but  what  it 
is  impossible  that  we  should  dcubt — that  is,  nothing  but  what 


GENIUS   AND   WKITTNG8   OF   PASCAL.  79 

it  would  be  a  contradiction  to  deny — where  would  be  the  proof 
of  our  willingness  to  believe  on  the  bare  assurance  of  wisdom 
and  knowledge  superior  to  our  own  ?  Wise  men  assuredly 
consider  it  as  a  most  important  element  in  the  education  of 
their  own  children,  not  indeed  that  they  should  be  taught  to 
believe  what  they  are  told  without  any  reason  (and  if  they 
have  been  properly  trained,  a  just  confidence  in  the  assurances 
of  their  superiors  in  knowledge  will  on  many  subjects  be  rea- 
son sufficient),  yet  upon  evidence  far  less  than  demonstration ; 
indeed  upon  evidence  far  less  than  they  will  be  able  to  appre- 
ciate, when  the  lapse  of  a  few  brief  years  has  transformed  them 
from  children  into  men.  We  certainly  expect  that  they  will 
believe  many  things  as  facts  which  as  yet  they  cannot  fully 
comprehend — nay,  which  they  tell  us  are,  in  appearance,  para- 
doxical ;  and  to  rest  satisfied  with  the  assurance,  that  it  is  in 
vain  to  attempt  to  explain  the  evidence  till  they  get  older  and 
wiser.  We  are  accustomed  even  to  augur  the  worst  results 
as  to  the  future  course  and  conduct  of  a  youth  who  has  not 
learned  to  exercise  thus  much  of  practical  faith,  and  who  flip- 
pantly rejects,  on  the  score  of  his  not  being  able  to  comprehend 
them,  truths  of  which  he  yet  has  greater  evidence,  though  not 
direct  evidence,  of  their  being  truths,  than  he  has  of  the  con- 
trary. Now,  "  if  we  have  had  earthly  fathers,  and  have  given 
them  reverence"  after  this  fashion,  and  when  we  have  become 
men  have  applauded  our  submission  as  appropriate  to  our  con- 
dition of  dependence,  "  shall  we  not  much  rather  be  subject  to 
the  Father  of  spirits,  and  live  ?"  If,  then,  the  present  be  a 
scene  of  moral  education  and  discipline,  it  seems  fit  in  itsell 
that  the  evidence  of  the  truths  we  believe  should  be  checkered 
with  difficulties  and  liable  to  objections ; — not  strong  enough 
10  force  assent,- nor  so  obscure  as  to  elude  sincere  investigation. 
God,  according  to  the  memorable  aphorism  of  Pascal  already 
cited,  has  afforded  sufficient  light  to  those  whose  object  is  tc 
Bee,  and  left  sufficient  obscurity  to  perplex  those  who  have  no 
such  wish.  All  that  seems  necessary  or  reasonable  to  expect 
is,  that  as  we  are  certainly  not  called  upon  tc  believe  any  thing 
without  reason,  nor  without  a  preponderance  of  reason,  so  th« 


30  GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL. 

evidence  shall  be  such  as  our  faculties  are  capable  of  dealing 
with ;  and  that  the  objections  shall  be  only  such  as  equally 
baffle  us  upon  any  other  hypothesis,  or  are  insoluble  only  be- 
cause they  transcend  altogether  the  limits  of  the  human  un- 
derstanding :  which  last  circumstance  can  be  no  valid  reason, 
apart  from  other  grounds,  either  for  accepting  or  rejecting  a 
given  dogma.  Now,  we  contend,  that  it  is  in  this  equitable 
way  that  God  has  dealt  with  us  as  moral  agents,  in  relation  to 
all  the  great  truths  which  lie  at  the  basis  of  religion  and  mor- 
als; and,  we  may  add,  in  relation  to  the  divine  origin  of  Chris- 
tianity. The  evidence  is  all  of  such  a  nature  as  we  are  aftcus- 
tomed  every  day  to  deal  with  and  to  act  upon ;  while  the  ob- 
jections are  either  such  as  reappear  in  every  other  theory,  or 
turn  on  difficulties  absolutely  beyond  the  limits  of  the  human 
faculties.  Take,  for  example,  the  principal  argument  whicL 
proves  the  existence  of  God ;  the  argument  which  infers  from 
the  traces  of  intelligent  design  in  the  universe,  the  existence 
of  a  wise  and  powerful  author.  In  applying  this  principle, 
man  only  acts  as  he  acts  every  day  of  his  life  in  other  cases. 
He  acts  on  a  principle  which,  if  he  were  to  doubt,  or  even 
affect  to  doubt,  he  would  be  laughed  at  by  his  fellow-men  as  a 
ridiculous  pedant  or  a  crazy  metaphysician.  Whether  indica- 
tions of  design,  countless  as  they  are  inimitable,  with  which 
the  whole  universe  is  inscribed,  are  likely  to  be  the  result  ot 
chance,  is  a  question  which  turns  on  principles  of  evidence 
rith  which  man  is  so  familiar  that  he  cannot  adopt  the  affirm- 
ative without  contradicting  all  his  judgments  in  every  other 
analogous,  or  similar,  or  conceivable  case.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  objections  to  the  conclusion  that  there  is  some  Eternal 
Being  of  illimitable  power  and  wisdom  are  precisely  of  the  na- 
ure  we  have  mentioned.  A  man  makes  a  difficulty,  we  will 
fcuppose  (as  well  he  may),  of  conceiving  that  which  has  existed 
from  eternity ;  but,  a*  something  certainly  exists  now,  the  de- 
nial of  the  existence  of  such  a  Being  does  not  relieve  from  that 
difficulty,  unless  the  objector  plunges  into  another  equally 
great, — that  of  supposing  it  possible  for  the  universe  to  hav« 
sprung  into  existence  without  a  cause  at  all.  This  difficulty 


GENIUS   AND   WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL.  81 

then,  is  one  which  reappears  under  any  hypothesis.  Again, 
w<*  will  suppose  him  to  make  a  difficulty  of  the  ideas  of  self- 
subsistence,  of  omnipresence  without  extension  of  parts — of 
power  which  creates  out  of  nothing,  and  which  acts  simply  by 
volition — of  a  knowledge  cognizant  of  each  thing  and  of  all  its 
relations — actual  and  possible,  past,  present,  and  to  come — tc 
every  other  thing,  at  every  point  of  illimitable  space,  and  in 
every  moment  of  endless  duration.  But  then  these  are  diffi- 
culties, the  solution  of  which  clearly  transcends  the  limits  of 
the  human  understanding ;  and  to  deny  the  doctrines  which 
seem  established  by  evidence  which  we  can  appreciate,  because 
we  cannot  solve  difficulties  which  lie  altogether  beyond  our 
capacities,  seems  like  resolving  that  nothing  shall  be  true  but 
what  we  can  fully  comprehend — a  principle  again  which,  in 
numberless  other  cases,  we  neither  can  nor  pretend  to  act  upon. 
It  is  much  the  same  with  the  evidences  of  Christianity. 
Whether  a  certain  amount  and  complexity  of  testimony  arc 
likely  to  be  false ;  whether  it  is  likely  that  not  one  but  a  num- 
ber of  men  would  endure  ignominy,  persecution,  and  the  last 
extremities  of  torture,  in  support  of  an  unprofitable  lie  ;  whether 
such  an  original  fictionxas  Christianity — if  it  be  fiction — is 
likely  to  have  been  the  production  of  Galilean  peasants ; 
whether  any  thing  so  sublime  was  to  be  expected  from  fools, 
or  any  thing  so  holy  from  knaves ;  whether  illiterate  fraud  wafa 
likely  to  be  equal  to  such  a  wonderful  fabrication ;  whether 
infinite  artifice  may  be  expected  from  ignorance,  or  a  perfectly 
natural  and  successful  assumption  of  truth  from  imposture ; — 
these  and  a  multitude  of  the  like  questions  are  precisely  of  the 
same  nature,  however  they  may  be  decided,  with  those  with 
which  the  historian  and  the  advocate,  judges  and  courts  of  law, 
are  every  day.  required  to  deal.  On -the  other  hand,  whether 
miracles  have  ever  been,  or  are  ever  likely  to  be  admitted  in 
the  administration  of  the  universe,  is  a  question  on  which  it 
\ould  demand  a  far  more  comprehensive  knowledge  of  that 
administration  than  we  can  possibly  possess  to  justify  an  a 
priori  decision.  That  they  are  possible  is  all  that  is  required ; 
%nd  that,  no  consistent  Theist  can  deny.  Other  difficulties  01 


82  GENIUS   AND   WHITINGS   OF   PASCAL. 

Christianity,  as  Bishop  Butler  has  so  clearly  shown,  baffle  ui 
on  every  other  hypothesis;  they  meet  us  as  much  in  the  "con- 
stitution of  nature"  as  in  the  pages  of  revelation,  and  cannot 
consistently  be  pleaded  against  Christianity  without  being 
equally  fatal  to  Theism. 

There  are  two  things,  we  will  venture  to  say,  at  "finch  the 
philosophers  of  some  future  age  will  stand  equall^  ^tonished  ; 
the  one  is,  that  any  man  should  have  been  called  upon  to  be- 
lieve any  mystery,  whether  of  philosophy  or  religion,  without 
a  preponderance  of  evidence  of  a  nature  which  he  can  grasp, 
or  on  the  mere  ipse  dixit  of  a  fallible  creature  like  himself ; 
the  other,  that  where  there  is  such  evidence,  man  should  reject 
a  mystery,  merely  because  it  is  one.  This  last,  perhaps,  will 
be  regarded  as  the  more  astonishing  of  the  two.  That  man, 
who  lives  in  a  dwelling  of  clay,  and  looks  out  upon  the  illim- 
itable universe  through  such  tiny  windows — who  stands,  as 
Pascal  sublimely  says,  between  "  two  infinitudes" — who  is  ab- 
solutely surrounded  by  mysteries,  which  he  overlooks,  only 
because  he  is  so  familiar  with  them,  should  doubt  a  proposition 
(otherwise  well  sustained)  from  its  intrinsic  difficulty,  does 
not  seem  very  reasonable.  But  when  we  further  reflect  that 
that  very  mind  which  erects  itself  into  a  standard  of  all  things 
is,  of  all  things,  the  most  ignorant  of  that  which  it  ought  to 
know  best — itself,  and  finds  there  the  most  inscrutable  of  all 
mysteries ;  when  we  reflect  that  when  asked  to  declare  what 
itself  is,  it  is  obliged  to  confess  that  it  knows  nothing  about 
the  matter — nothing  either  of  its  own  essence  or  its  mode  of 
operation — that  it  is  sometimes  inclined  to  think  itself  mate- 
rial and  sometimes  immaterial — that  it  cannot  quite  come  to  a 
tonclusion  whether  the  body  really  exists  or  is  a  phantom,  or 
in  what  way  (if  the  body  really  exist)  the  intimate  union  be- 
tween the  two  is  maintained ;  when  we  see  it  perplexed  be- 
yond expression  even  to  conceive  how  these  phenomena  can 
be  reconciled — proclaiming  it  to  be  an  almost  equal  contradic- 
tion to  suppose  that  matter  can  think,  or  the  Soul  be  material, 
or  a  connection  maintained  between  two  totally  different  sub- 
stances, and  yet  admitting  that  one  of  these  must  be  true 


GENIUS    AND    WRITINGS   OF   PASCAL.  83 

though  it  cannot  satisfactorily  determine  which ;  when  we  re- 
flect o.i  all  this,  surely  we  cannot  but  feel  that  the  spectacle  of 
so  ignorant  a  being  refusing  to  believe  i  proposition  merely 
l.>ectmse  it  is  above  its  comprehension,  L  of  all  paradoxes  the 
moat  paradoxical,  and  of  all  absurdities  the  most  ludicrous. 


PASCAL  AS  A  PHILOSOPHIC  SKEPTIC 

BY  M.  VICTOK  COUSIN. 


ALREADY,  in  1828,1  we  had  found  Pascal  a  skeptic,  even  ic 
Port-Royal  and  Bossut ;  in  1842,  we  found  him  still  more 
skeptical  in  the  autograph  manuscript,  and  in  spite  of  the 
lively  controversy  that  has  been  awakened  on  the  subject,  our 
conviction  has  not  been  for  a  single  moment  shaken — it  has 
even  been  strengthened  by  new  studies. 

"  What !  Pascal  a  skeptic  ?"  is  the  cry  that  is  raised  from 
almost  every  quarter.  "  What  Pascal  are  you  putting  in  the 
place  of  him  who  has  hitherto  been  regarded  as  one  of  the 
stanchest  defenders  of  the  Christian  religion  ?"  A  truce,  gen- 
tlemen ;  let  us  understand  each  other,  I  beg  you.  I  have  not 
said  that  Pascal  was  a  skeptic  in  religion  :  that  were,  indeed, 
a  little  too  absurd  :  far  from  that,  Pascal  believed  in  Christi- 
anity with  all  the  powers  of  his  soul.  I  will  not  go  back  and 
insist  on  the  nature  of  his  faith — a  faith  which  I  have  not 
feared  to  call  an  unhappy  one,  such  as  I  could  not  wish  for 
any  of  my  fellow-beings — but  who  could  ever  deny  that  this 
faith  was  sincere  and  profound  ?  The  question  must  be  stated 
with  clearness  and  precision  : — Pascal  was  a  skeptic  in  philoso- 
phy and  not  in  religion  ;  and  because  he  was  a  skeptic  in  phi- 
losophy, he  attached  himself  so  much  the  more  closely  to  re- 
ligion, as  to  the  last  resource  of  humanity  in  the  impotence  o 

1  Court  de  VHistoire  de  la  Pkttosophie  modern*,  II«  S£rie,  t.  ii,  lee.  xil 
p.  838. 


86  PASCAL   AS   A  PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

reason,  in  the  ruin  of  all  natural  truth  among  men.  This  is 
what  I  have  said,  what  I  maintain,  and  what  it  behooves  me 
to  prove  for  the  last  time  beyond  the  possibility  of  refutation. 

What  is  skepticism  ?  A  philosophic  opinion  that  consists 
precisely  in  rejecting  all  philosophy  as  impossible,  on  the 
ground  that  man  is  incapable  by  himself  of  arriving  at  any 
truth,  still  less  at  those  truths  which  constitute  what  is  called 
in  philosophy  Ethics  and  Natural  Religion — that  is,  the  free- 
dom of  man,  the  law  of  duty,  the  distinction  between  just  and 
unjust,  between  good  and  evil;  the  sanctity  of  virtue,  the  im- 
materiality of  the  soul,  and  Divine  Providence.  All  philoso- 
phers, worthy  of  the  name,  aspire  to  these  truths.  To  reach 
them,  one  takes  one  course,  another,  another :  processes  dif- 
fer ;  hence  diverse  methods  and  schools,  less  opposed  to  each 
other  than  one  would  at  first  sight  believe,  whose  history 
expresses  the  movement  and  progress  of  human  intelligence 
and  civilization.  But  the  most  different  schools  pursue  a  com- 
mon end — the  establishment  of  truth  ;  and  set  out  from  a 
common  principle — the  firm  conviction  that  man  has  received 
from  God  the  power  of  attaining  truths  of  the  moral  as  well 
as  of  the  physical  order.  This  natural  power,  which  they 
place  in  sensation  or  reflection,  in  sentiment  or  intellect,  is 
among  themselves  a  subject  of  family  quarrel ;  but  they  are 
all  agreed  upon  the  essential  point  that  man  possesses  the 
power  of  arriving  at  truth ;  for  upon  this  condition,  and  this 
alone,  philosophy  is  not  a  chimera. 

Skepticism  is  the  adversary,  not  only  of  such  or  such  a 
school,  but  of  all  schools  of  philosophy.  We  must  not  con- 
found skepticism  with  doubt.  Doubt  has  its  legitimate  use, 
its  wisdom,  its  utility.  It  serves  philosophy  in  its  way,  for  it 
warns  her  of  her  aberrations,  and  reminds  reason  of  its  imper- 
•"ections  and  limits.  It  may  be  applied  to  such  a  result,  such 
it  process,  such  a  principle,  even  such  an  order  of  cognitions ; 
tut  as  soon  as  it  is  applied  to  the  faculty  of  knowing,  if  it 
contests  with  reason  her  power  and  her  rights,  from  that  mo- 
ment it  is  no  longer  doubt  but  skepticism.  Doubt  does  not 
flee  truth ;  it  seeks  it,  and  it  is  the  I  etter  to  attain  it  that  if 


PASCAL   AS    A   PHILOSOPHIC    SKEPTIC.  87 

Batches  over  and  holds  in  check  the  often  rash  procedures  o' 
reason.  Skepticism  does  not  seek  truth,  for  it  knows,  01 
thinks  it  knows,  that  there  is  none  and  can  be  none  for  man 
Doubt  is  to  philosophy  an  inconvenient,  often  importunate 
always  useful  friend :  skepticism  is  to  it  a  mortal  enemy 
DouLt  plays  in  some  sort  the  part,  in  the  empire  of  philoso- 
phy, of  the  constitutional  opposition  in  the  representative  sys- 
tem ;  it  acknowledges  the  principle  of  the  government,  only 
criticising  its  acts,  and  that  too  in  the  very  interest  of  the 
government.  Skepticism  resembles  an  opposition  that  labors 
to  ruin  the  established  order,  and  exerts  itself  to  destroy  the 
principle  itself  in  virtue  of  which  it  speaks.  In  days  of 
peril,  the  constitutional  opposition  hastens  to  lend  its  support 
to  the  government,  while  the  other  opposition  invokes  dan- 
gers, and  in  them  places  its  hopes  of  triumph.  Thus,  when 
the  rights  of  philosophy  are  menaced,  doubt,  feeling  itself 
menaced  in  her,  rallies  to  her  as  to  its  own  principle ;  skepti- 
cism, on  the  contrary,  then  lifts  the  mask  and  openly  betrays. 

Skepticism  is  of  two  kinds :  it  either  remains  its  own  end, 
resting  tranquilly  in  the  negation  of  all  certainty ;  or  it  has  a 
secret  aim  quite  different  from  its  apparent  object,  and  plays  a 
hidden  game,  holding  back  the  cards,  as  we  may  say,  of  its 
most  audacious  designs.  In  the  bosom  of  philosophy  it  has 
the  air  of  combating  for  the  unlimited  liberty  of  the  human 
mind,  against  the  tyranny  of  what  it  calls  philosophical  dog- 
matism, while  in  reality  it  is  conspiring  in  favor  of  a  foreign 
tyranny. 

Who  docs  not  remember,  for  instance,  having  seen  in  our 
times  a  famous  writer  preaching  the  most  absolute  skepticism 
in  one  volume  of  the  Essay  on  Indifference,  in  order  to  lead 
as  in  the  other  volumes  to  the  most  absolute  dogmatism  that 
2ver  existed  ? 

It  remains  to  ascertain  whether  skepticism,  such  as  we  have 
ust  defined  it  in  general,  is  or  is  not  in  the  book  of  Thoughts. 

According  to  us,  it  is  there,  and  breaks  forth  in  every  page, 
\t  every  line.  Pascal  breathes  skepticism ;  he  is  full  oi  it ; 
he  proclaims  its  principle,  accepts  all  its  consequences  an«' 


88  PASCAL    AS    A    PHILOSOPHIC    SKE1TIC. 

pushes  it  at  the  outset  to  its  furthest  limits — the  avowed  con- 
tempt, and  almost  hatred,  of  all  philosophy.  ' 

Yes,  Pascal  is  a  declared  enemy  of  philosophy  :  he  believes 
in  it  neither  much  nor  little ;  he  rejects  it  absolutely. 

Hear  him,  not  in  the  weakened  echo  of  Port- Royal  and 
Bossut,  but  in  his  own  manuscript,  the  incorruptible  witness  oi 
his  real  thought. 

At  the  close  of  the  famous  yet  most  unjust  tirade  against 
Descartes,  Pascal  has  written  these  words :  "  We  do  not  esteem 
the  whole  of  Philosophy  as  worth  a  single  hour  of  pains."  And 
elsewhere  :  "  To  ridicule  philosophy  is  truly  to  philosophize." 

Is  this  language  sufficiently  clear  ?  It  is  not  such  or  such  a 
philosophic  school  that  is  condemned,  it  is  all  philosophic 
study,  it  is  philosophy  itself.  Idealists  or  empirists,  disciples 
of  Plato  or  of  Aristotle,  of  Locke  or  of  Descartes,  of  Reid  or  of 
Kant,  whoever  you  may  be,  if  you  are  philosophers,  Pascal  de- 
clares war  against  you  all. 

In  the  same  manner,  in  the  whole  history  of  philosophy, 
Pascal  absolves  nothing  but  skepticism.  "  Pyrrhonism.  Pyr- 
rhonism is  truth."  Mark  well  this  decisive  sentence.  Pascal 
does  not  say :  There  is  some  truth  in  Pyrrhonism ;  but  Pyr- 
rhonism is  truth.  But  Pyrrhonism  is  not  doubt  upon  such  or 
such  a  point  of  human  knowledge ;  it  is  universal  doubt,  it  is 
the  radical  negation  of  all  natural  power  of  knowing.  Pascal 
explains  his  idea  perfectly  :  "  Pyrrhonism  is  truth ;  for,  after 
all,  before  Jesus  Christ,,  men  neither  knew  where  they  stood, 
nor  whether  they  were  great  or  small ;  and  those  who  asserted 
the  one  or  the  other  knew  nothing  about  it,  but  guessed  with- 
out reason  and  through  chance,  and  even  constantly  erred, 
whichever  they  excluded." 

Thus,  before  Jesus  Christ,  the  only  sage  in  the  world,  is 
neither  Pythagoras  nor  Anaxagoras,  neither  Plato  nor  Aris- 
uotle,  neither  Zeno  nor  Epicurus,  nor  even  thou,  O  Socrates, 
who  hast  died  for  the  cause  of  truth  and  God.  No ;  the  only 
age  is  Pyrrho ;  as,  since  Jesus  Christ,  the  least  contemptible 
of  all  the  philosophers  is  neither  Locke  nor  Descartes,  but 
Montaigne. 


PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC    SKEPTIC.  89 

Do  you  desire  us  to  show  you  in  Pascal  the  principle  of  all 
skepticism,  the  impotence  of  human  reason  ?  We  are  embar- 
rassed only  in  the  choice  of  passages. 

"  What  is  thought  ?     How  foolish  it  is !" 

"  Humiliate  yourself,  impotent  reason ;  be  silent,  imbecile 
nature." 

What  mean  these  haughty  invectives,  if  they  do  not  spring 
from  a  deeply-rooted  skepticism  ? 

Notwithstanding,  it  is  disputed,  and  this  :s  the  specious  ob- 
jection which  is  made :  You  are  mistaken,  it  is  said,  in  *^ard 
to  Pascal's  true  thought.  He  is  skeptical,  we  confess,  on  the 
side  of  reason ;  but  what  matters  it,  if  he  recognizes  another 
natural  principle  of  certainty  ?  Now  this  principle,  superior 
to  reason,  is  sentiment,  instinct,  the  heart.  Let  us  clear  up 
this  interesting  point. 

Pascal  has  written  a  remarkable  passage  on  the  primary 
truths  which  reason  cannot  demonstrate,  but  which  serve  as 
the  foundation  of  all  demonstration. 

"We  know  truth  not  only  through  the  reason,  but  also 
through  the  heart ;  it  is  from  the  latter  source  that  we  know 
its  first  principles,  and  it  is  useless  for  reasoning,  which  has  no 
share  in  them,  to  attempt  to  oppose  them.  The  Pyrrhonists, 
who  have  this  for  their  sole  object,  labor  in  vain.  We  know 
that  we  are  not  dreaming,  however  impotent  we  may  be  to 
prove  it  by  reason — an  impotence  which  merely  demonstrates 
the  weakness  of  our  reason,  but  not  the  uncertainty  of  all  our 
knowledge,  as  they  pretend ;  for  the  knowledge  of  first  prin- 
ciples, like  that'  of  space,  time,  motion,  number,  is  as  positive 
as  that  of  any  given  us  by  our  reasoning ;  and  it  is  upon  this 
knowledge  of  the  heart  and  instinct  that  reason  must  rest  and 
found  all  its  conclusions.  The  heart  feels  that  there  are  three 
dimensions 'in  space,  and  that  numbers  are  infinite;  reason 
afterwards  demonstrates  that  there  are  no  two  squares,  one  of 
which  is  double  the  other.  Principles  are  felt,  propositions 
concluded ;  both  with  certainty,  though  by  different  ways ;  and 
it  is  as  useless  and  as  ridiculous  for  the  reason  to  demand  of 
the  heart  proofs  of  its  first  principles  before  being  willing  tc 


90  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

consent  to  them,  as  it  would  be  absurd  for  the  heart  to  demand 
of  the  reason  a  feeling  of  all  the  propositions  which  it  demon- 
strates before  being  willing  tx>  receive  them.  This  impotence 
should  serve,  therefore,  only  to  humiliate  reason,  which  would 
judge  of  every  thing,  but  not  to  combat  our  certainty,  as  i 
there  were  nothing  but  reason  capable  of  instructing  us. 
Would  to  God,  on  the  contrary,  that  we  never  had  need  of  it, 
but  that  we  knew  all  things  by  instinct  and  feeling !" ' 

We  willingly  adhere  to  this  theory ;  but  Pascal  was  not  the 
inventor  of  it :  it  is  common  in  philosophy,  particularly  in  the 
Platonic  and  Cartesian  school.  Behold,  therefore,  this  proud 
contemner  of  philosophy  become  a  philosopher  in  turn — the 
disciple  of  Plato  and  Descartes.  This  is,  in  the  first  place,  a 
very  strange  metamorphosis.  And  then,  when  one  borrows 
from  philosophy  one  of  its  most  celebrated  maxims,  he  should 
comprehend  it  well  and  express  it  faithfully. 

There  are  assuredly  some  truths  that  spring  from  a  faculty 
quite  different  from  reasoning.  What  is  this  faculty  ?  All  the 
Cartesian  and  Platonic  school  call  it.  reason — a  very  different 
thing  from  reasoning,  as  is  well  said  by  Moliere : 

"  Et  le  raisonnement  en  bannit  ia  raison."  * 

Reason  is  the  very  foundation  of  the  human  mind  ;  it  is  the 
natural  power  of  knowing,  which  manifests  itself  in  very  differ- 
ent ways, — sometimes  by  a  sort  of  intuition,  by  a  direct  con- 
ception; and  thus  it  is  that  it  reveals  to  us  primary  truths, 
and  those  universal  and  necessary  principles  which  constitute 
the  patrimony  of  common  sense, — sometimes  by  way  of  de- 
duction, or  of  induction ;  and  thus  it  is  that  it  forms  those 

1  There  are  several  similar  passages  in  Pascal.  "  The  mind  and  the 
heart  are  like  doors  by  which  truth  is  received  into  the  soul."  .  . .  .  "  The 
heart  has  its  order;  so  has  the  mind,  which  is  by  principles  and  demon- 
strations. But  that  of  the  heart  is  very  different:  we  do  not  demonstrate 
that  we  ought  to  be  loved  by  propounding  in  order  the  causes  of  love. 
This  would  be  ridiculous."  .  .  .  .  "  The  heart  has  its  reasons  which  tic 
eason  does  not  know ;  we  feel  it  in  a  thousand  Jiings."  .  .  .  .  "  liisto — ' 
• '  d  reason,  the  marks  of  two  natures." 

*  And  reasoning  exiles  reason 


PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC    SKEPTIC.  9J 

ong  chains  of  connected  truths,  termed  the  human  sciences 
AJ1  truths  are  not  self-demonstrative :  there  are  some  which 
are  clear  from  their  own  evidence,  and  which  reason  attains  by 
her  own  virtue  and  by  the  energy  which  belongs  to  her ;  but 
in  this  case,  as  in  all  the  rest,  she  is  still  the  human  reason  :  it 
may  even  be  said  that  her  natural  power  appears  still  more 
in  this.  In  reproducing  this  theory,  which  is  as  old  as  philos- 
ophy '  itself,  but  which  he  seems  to  regard  as  new,  Pascal  per- 
verts it  somewhat  by  the  forms  in  which  he  clothes  it.  With 
due  deference  to  the  great  geometrician — this  consummate 
master  of  the  art  of  speaking  and  of  writing — can  we  approve 
this  singular  expression?  The  heart  feels  that  there  are  three 
dimensions  in  xpace.  Why  this  strange  fashion  of  saying, 
with  two  or  three  hundred  philosophers,  the  most  common 
thing  in  the  world,  namely,  that  the  notion  of  extent  and  space 
is  not  an  acquisition  of  reasoning,  but  a  direct  conception  of 
reason,  of  understanding,  of  intellect,  as  we  may  please  to  call 
it,  commencing  its  functions  in  the  train  of  sensation  ? 2 

Pascal  does  worse :  he  turns  against  itself  the  theory  of 
primary  and  undemonstrable  truths,  by  the  aid  of  a  kind  of 
play  of  words  unworthy  of  his  genius.  What  all  the  world 
calls  reasoning,  it  suits  Pascal  to  call  reason  ;  this  would  be 
well  enough  if,  in  conformity  with  the  definition  which  he 
himself  has  established,  he  gave  notice  of  the  fact ;  but  he 
does  nothing  of  the  sort,  but  argues  in  this  manner  at  his  ease. 
He  addresses  himself  to  reasoning,  which  he  terms  reason,  and 
calls  on  it  to  justify  the  principles  of  human  knowledge.  This 
reasoning  cannot  do,  for  its  function  is  not  to  demonstrate  the 
principles  from  which  it  proceeds.  Upon  this,  Pascal  thun- 
ders forth  :  "  Humiliate  yourself,  impotent  reason ;  be  silent, 
imbecile  nature."  But  if,  instead  of  reasoning,  which  is  here 
alone  arraigned,  reason  were  suffered  to  take  up  the  defenc^ 

1  See  our  writings,  paxsim,  among  others,  Cours  de  V Histoire  de  la  Phi 
\osopkie  m/iderne,  I"  St-rie,  t.  ii,  IOQ.  ix  et  x ;  Du.  MyaHoiume,  p.  193,  t.  iv 
t'f;.  xiii;  Jlutcheson,  Esthetique,  p.  104,  Itxj.  xiv,  p.  140,  109.  xxii ;  Jinid 
Essais  Bur  leg  Facultes  intellect  uelles,  p.  502,  et2. 

'  Cours  de  I'Hist.  de  la  Phiios.  moderne,  II"  Serie,  t.  Hi,  ICQ.  xvii. 


92  PASCAL   AS    A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

she  -would  remind  Pascal  of  his  forgotten  theory,  and,  in  the 
name  of  this  theory,  would  reply  to  him  that,  far  from  being 
impotent,  she  has  the  marveHous  power  of  revealing  truth  to 
us  without  the  aid  of  any  reasoning — that,  far  from  being  im- 
becile in  her  nature,  she  rises  by  the  power  that  is  within 
herself  to  those  first,  eternal  truths,  which  skepticism  may 
deny  with  the  lips,  but  which  in  reality  it  cannot  but  admit, 
and  which  its  own  arguments  contain  or  suppose.  She  would 
say  to  Pascal :  Either  you  abandon  the  theory  which  you  just 
affirmed,  or  you  maintain  it ;  if  you  abandon  it,  what  a  para- 
dox are  you,  in  turn,  to  yourself !  If  you  maintain  it,  then,  in 
order  to  be  faithful  to  your  own  maxims,  abjure  your  inconsid- 
erate disdain,  and  honor  this  light,  at  once  human  and  divine, 
which  illumines  every  man  on  his  entrance  into  the  world, 
and  discovers  to  the  herdsman  as  well  as  to  yourself  all  neces- 
sary truths,  without  the  often  deceptive  apparatus  of  scholastic 
demonstrations. 

It  appears  to  us  that  this  answer  should  suffice ;  and  yet  it 
is  necessary  to  carry  it  further — it  is  necessary  to  show  that 
the  skepticism  of  Pascal  did. not  make  the  slightest  reserve  in 
favor  of  the  truths  of  feeling  and  heart,  and  that  it  was  too 
consequent  not  to  have  been  without  limits.  In  fact,  as  M. 
Royer-Collard  says,  "  one  does  not  take  skepticism  by  halves  /" 
it  is  absolute,  or  it  is  not;  it  wholly  triumphs,  or  perishes 
entire.  If,  under  the  name  of  feeling,  reason  legitimately  fur- 
nishes us  with  sure  first  principles,  reasoning,  being  based,  on 
.hese  principles,  will  also  legitimately  draw  from  them  sure 
conclusions,  and  science  will  raise  itself  entire  on  the  smallest 
stone  that  is  left  to  it.  It  is  all  over,  then,  with  the  design  ot 
Pascal.  In  order  that  faith  (I  mean  here,  with  him,  supernat- 
ural faith  in  Jesus  Christ)  should  give  every  thing,  it  is  necessary 
that  natural  reason  should  give  nothing — that  it  should  be 
able  to  give  nothing,  either  under  one  name  or  another.  Thus, 
iardly  has  Pascal  finished  this  vaunted  exposition  of  the  truths 
•>f  feeling,  before  he  sets  about  depreciating  them,  diminishing 
iheir  number  and  contesting  their  authority ;  he  who  has  said, 
to  a  moment  of  distraction,  that  nature  confounds  Pyrrhonism, 


PASCAL   AS    A    PHILOSOPHIC    SKEFIIC.  93 

ks  Pyrrhor.ism  confounds  reason  (always  meaning  reasoning)— 
he  who  has  just  written  the  words,  "We  know  that  we  are 
not  dreaming,  however  impotent  we  may  be  to  prove  it  by 
reason,"  now  takes  up  the  arguments  of  Pyrrhonism,  which  be 
seemed  to  have  broken  forever,  and  turns  them  against  feel'ng 
itself,  to  destroy  all  dogmatism  which  would  agree  as  well  with 
feeling  as  with  reason,  to  decry  all  pbilosopby,  and  to  crush 
human  nature.  Pascal  proceeds  with  order  in  this  enterprise ; 
he  goes  on  step  by  step,  and  only  reaches  by  degrees  bis  ulti- 
mate end. 

In  the  first  place,  be  studies  to  sbow  that  Pyrrbonism  is 
far  from  being  powerless  against  natural  truths,  and  that 
it  serves  at  least  to  entangle  the  matter  (a  embrouiller  la 
matiere),  which  is  something  already.  The  passage  is  curious : 

"  We  suppose  that  all  men  understand  in  the  same  manner, 
though  we  suppose  it  very  gratuitously,  since  we  have  no  proof 
of  it.  I  know  indeed  that  the  same  words  are  employed  on  the 
same  occasions,  and  that  whenever  two  men  see  a  body  chang- 
ing place  they  both  describe  the  sight  of  the  same  object  by 
the  same  words,  and  both  say  that  it  is  moving ;  and  from 
this  conformity  of  expression  is  drawn  a  strong  conjecture  of 
conformity  of  thought ;  but  this  is  not  an  absolutely  convincing 
proof  of  the  latter  conviction,  although  there  may  be  good 
reason  to  incline  to  the  affirmative,  since  it  is  well  known  that 
the  same  consequences  often  result  from  different  suppositions. 

"  This  suffices  at  least  to  entangle  the  matter,  not  that  it 
absolutely  extinguishes  natural  clearness,  which  assures  us  of 
these  things,  as  the  academicians  would  assert ;  but  it  darkens 
it  and  troubles  the  dogmatists,  to  the  glory  of  the  Pyrrhonian 
cabal,  which  consists  of  this  ambiguous  ambiguity,  and  of  a 
a  certain  doubtful  obscurity,  from  which  our  doubts  cannot 
take  away  all  the  clearness,  nor  our  natural  light  dispel  all  the 
darkness." 

Behold  natural  light  already  obscured,  and,  thank  heav- 
en,  the  matter  entangled;  yet  the  principle  of  natural  clear- 
ness, weak  as  it  may  be,  is  still  existing;  it  is  necessary  tc 
extinguish  it,  and  complete  the  chaos.  Pascal  goes,  there- 


94  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

fore,  so  far  as  to  maintain  that,  without  faith  and  revelation, 
feeling  itself  is  impotent.  What !  can  feeling  be  so  far  impo- 
tent that,  w.'thout  revelation;  man  cannot  legitimately  know 
whether  he  is  sleeping  or  waking  ?  Just  now,  Pascal  scoffed 
at  the  Pyrrhonism  that  pretended  to  go  so  far  as  this.  But 
once  more,  if  Pyrrhonism  does  not  go  thus  far,  it  is  lost ;  by 
degrees,  feeling,  instinct,  and  heart  will  win  back  from  it,  one 
by  one,  all  the  essential  truths  taken  from  reason.  Pyrrho- 
nism must,  therefore,  be  resolutely  followed  in  all  its  conse- 
quences in  order  that  its  principle  shall  remain,  and  Pascal 
dares  no  longer  too  positively  affirm  that  man  knows  naturally 
whether  he  is  sleeping  or  waking. 

"  The  principal  arguments  of  the  Pyrrhonists  (I  leave  the 
less  important)  are,  that  we  have  no  certainty  of  the  truth  of 
principles,  beyond  faith  and  revelation,  except  the  natural  con- 
viction of  them  which  we  feel  within  us.  Now  this  natural 
feeling  is  not  a  convincing  proof  of  their  truth,  since,  having 
no  certainty,  except  through  faith,  whether  man  was  created 
by  a  good  God,  by  an  evil  demon,  or  by  chance,  it  is  doubtful 
whether  the  principles  thus  given  to  us  are  true,  false,  or  un- 
certain (according  to  our  origin) ;  furthermore,  as  no  one  has 
the  assurance,  except  through  faith,  whether  he  is  sleeping  or 
waking, — seeing  that  during  sleep  he  believes  himself  awake  as 
firmly  as  ourselves ;  thinks  that  he  sees  spaces,  figures,  and 
motions ;  realizes  the  lapse  of  time,  measures  it,  and  acts,  in 
short,  in  the  same  manner  as  when  awake  ;  so  that,  half  our 
life  being  passed  in  sleep,  by  our  own  confession  or  that  which 
appears  to  us,  we  have  not  the  least  idea  of  truth.  All  our 
feelings  being  then  illusions,  who  knows  whether  this  other 
half  of  life,  in  which  we  think  ourselves  awake,  be  not  another 
sleep,  a  little  different  from  the  first,  from  which  ve  awaken 
when  we  think  that  we  sleep,  as  one  dreams  often  that  he  is 
dreaming,  thus  building  one  dream  upon  the  other  ? 

"  These  are  the  chief  arguments  on  both  sides  ;  I  leave  the 
'.ess  important  ones,  as  the  reasons  that  are  urged  in  opposition 
to  the  Pyrrhonists,  against  the  impressions  of  custom,  educa- 
tion, manners,  country,  and  other  like  things,  which,  although 


PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC.  95 

they  carry  away  the  greater  portion  of  the  common  people, 
who  dogmatize  only  upon  such  vain  foundations,  are  over- 
thrown by  the  slightest  breath  of  the  Pyrrhonists.  One  has 
only  to  see  their  books ;  if  he  is  not  already  sufficiently  per- 
suaded, he  will  soon  become  so,  and,  perhaps,  too  firmly. 

"  I  pause  at  the  only  stronghold  of  the  dogmatists,  which  is 
that,  speaking  sincerely  and  in  good  faith,  natural  principles 
cannot  be  doubted  ;  against  which  the  Pyrrhonists  oppose,  in 
a  word,  the  uncertainty  of  our  origin,  which  comprehends  that 
of  our  nature ;  and  to  this  these  dogmatists  have  still  to  reply, 
since  the  beginning  of  the  world." 

How !  has  no  one  been  able  to  meet  these  objections,  since  the 
world  began !  But  we  have  just  heard  Pascal  himself  reply  to 
them  by  his  theory  of  primary  truths  placed  above  all  reason- 
ing, and  consequently  inaccessible  to  all  the  attacks  of  Pyr- 
rhonism. What !  to  know  whether  I  am  sleeping  or  waking 
— whether  I  see  you  or  do  not  see  you — whether  two  and 
two  make  four — whether  I  should  keep  pledged  faith,  be  sin- 
cere, upright,  temperate,  charitable,  etc.,  it  is  necessary  that 
I  should  first  have  made  an  absolutely  unassailable  choice 
from  among  so  many  systems,  more  religious  than  philo- 
sophical, in  respect  to  our  origin  and  the  essence  of  human 
nature !  But  these  systems  are  precisely  the  subject  of  per- 
petual disputes,  while  the  power  of  feeling,  instinct,  heart, — 
that  is,  of  natural  reason, — governs  humanity  since  the  world 
began ! 

Do  you  fancy  Pascal  become  again  wholly  a  Pyrrhonist  ? 
Not  at  all ;  he  is  about  to  abandon  his  Pyrrhonism  anew,  as 
he  has  just  abandoned  for  Pyrrhonism  the  theory  of  feeling. 
After  the  fragment  which  we  have  just  quoted,  he  adds  : 

"  Behold  an  open  war  among,  men,  in  which  each  one  i 
forced  to  take  part,  and  range  himself  through  necessity  eithe* 
with  dogmatism  or  Pyrrhonism  :  for  whoever  thinks  to  remain 
neutral  will  be  a  Pyrrhonist  par  excellence :  this  neutrality  ia 
the  essence  of  the  cabal.  Who  is  not  against  them  is  emphat- 
ically for  them ;  they  are  not  for  themselves, — they  are  neutral, 
indifferent,  in  suspense  as  to  every  thing,  without  exception. 


96  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

"  What  will  man  do,  then,  in  this  position  ?  Will  he.  doubt 
every  thing — will  he  doubt  whether  he  is  waking,  is  pinched, 
or  is  burned — will  he  doubt  whether  he  doubts — will  he  doubt 
his  own  existence  ?  No  one  can  go  so  far  as  this.  I  lay  it 
down  as  a  fact  that  there  has  never  been  a  single  effective, 
perfect  Pyrrhonist.  Nature  sustains  impotent  reason,  and  hin- 
ders it  from  carrying  extravagance  to  such  a  point." 

Thus  nature  sustains  reason;  Pascal  declares  it  himself', 
this  nature,  by  his  own  confession,  is,  therefore,  not  impotent ; 
natural  feeling  has,  therefore,  a  power  in  which  we  may  con- 
fide ;  it  authorizes,  therefore,  the  truths  which  it  reveals  to  us ; 
these  truths,  evolved  by  reflection,  may,  therefore,  form  a  reli- 
able and  quite  legitimate  doctrine.  Either  the  words,  "  nature 
sustains  reason,"  signify  nothing,  or  their  scope  extends  as  far 
as  this. 

But  this  conclusion  cannot  satisfy  Pascal.  He  quickly  re- 
traces his  steps,  and,  after  having  acknowledged  that  nature 
sustains  impotent  reason, — that  is,  that  there  is  a  natural  cer- 
tainty anterior  and  superior  to  reasoning, — exclaims :  "  Will 
man  say,  on  the  contrary,  that  he  certainly  possesses  truth  ?" 
Yes,  he  will  say  it,  after  you  and  with  you ;  he  will  say  that 
he  certainly  possesses,  not  every  species  of  truth,  but  a  suffi- 
ciently large  number,  the  first  of  which  are  the  truths  of  feeling, 
instinct,  and  heart ;  or  he  will  succumb  to  that  absolute  Pyr- 
rhonism which  you  yourself  declare  impossible.  "Will  he  say 
that  he  possesses  truth  certainly, — he  who,  pressed  as  little  as 
he  may  be,  fails  to  show  any  title  to  his  claim,  and  is  forced 
to  loose  his  hold  ?"  But  he  does  not  need  to  show  any  title  to 
these  first  principles  and  truths  of  feeling  ;  for  these  principles 
and  truths  have  their  title  within  themselves,  and  are  justified 
by  their  own  virtue.  Man  is  not  forced,  therefore,  to  loose  his 
hold  of  them  :  far  from  this,  he  adheres  immovably  to  these 
highest  truths  which  nature  reveals  to  him,  and  of  which  she 
persuades  him  in  spite  of  all  the  arguments  of  Pyrrhonism. 
I  do  not,  therefore,  hesitate  to  say,  that  a'.l  that  follows 
in  Pascal,  admirable  as  it  may  be  for  its  energy  and  mag- 
nificence of  language,  is  after  all  nothing  more  than  a  piece 


PASCAL   A8   A   PHILOSOPHIC    SKEPTIC.  9Y 

of  eloquence,  which  has  not  even  the  merit  of  perfect  con- 
sistency. 

Pyrrhonism  has  so  fully  taken  possession  of  the  mind  of 
Pascal,  that  outside  of  this  he  perceives  nothing  but  extrava- 
gance. 

"  Nothing  strengthens  Pyrrhonism  more  than  the  fact  that 
there  are  some  that  are  not  Pyrrhonists.  If  all  were  so,  they 
would  be  in  the  wrong.  .  .  .  This  sect  derives  strength  from 
its  enemies  more  than  from  its  friends.  For  the  weakness  ol 
mankind  appears  much  more  plainly  in  those  who  know  it  not 

than  in  those  who  know  it It  is  fortunate  that  there 

are  some  in  the  world  who  are  not  Pyrrhonists,  in  order  to 
show  that  man  is  really  capable  of  the  most  extravagant  opin- 
ions, since  he  is  capable  of  believing  that  he  is  not  in  this  state 
of  natural  and  inevitable  weakness." 

In  conclusion,  according  to  Pascal,  there  can  be  no  natural 
certainty  for  mankind,  no  more  in  feeling  than  in  reason.  Hia 
origin  and  nature  condemn  him  to  uncertainty.  Revelation 
and  grace  alone  can  free  him  from  this  law. 

The  peremptory  proof  that  skepticism  is  the  principle  of  the 
book  of  Thoughts,  is  that  it  includes  all  its  consequences, 
strangely  enough,  both  in  ethics  and  political  science.  In  eth- 
ics, Pascal  admits  no  natural  justice.  What  we  call  by  that 
name  is  only  the  result  of  custom  and  of  fashion.  Is  it  Pascal 
or  Montaigne  that  writes  these  passages  ? — 

"  What  are  our  natural  principles  if  not  our  habitual  princi- 
ples ?  in  children,  such  as  they  have  received  from  the  customs 
of  their  fathers,  like  rapacity  in  animals. 

"  Fathers  fear  lest  the  natural  love  of  their  children  may 
become  extinct.  What  kind  of  a,  nature  is  this  that  is  subject 
to  extinctions  ?  .  .  .  I  fear  much  that  nature  herself  is  a  first 
habit,  as  habit  is  a  second  nature." 

"As  fashion  makes  comfort,  so  does  she  also  make  justice. 
If  man  had  really  had  a  knowledge  of  justice,  he  would  not 
nave  laid  down  the  maxim — the  most  general  of  all  that  are 
known  among  mankind — that  every  man  should  follow  the 
customs  of  his  own  country.  The  lustre  tf  true  equity  would 


98  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

have  inthralled  every  nation  ;  and  legislators  would  r.ot  have 
taken  for  their  model,  instead  of  this  steadfast  justice,  the 
whims  and  caprices  of  the  Persians  and  Germans — it  would 
have  been  seen  established  in  every  government  and  in  every 
age. 

"  They  acknowledge  that  justice  does  not  lie  in  these  cus- 
toms, but  in  natural  laws  common  to  all  countries.  This  they 
would  maintain  with  obstinacy,  if  the  temerity  of  chance; 
which  planted  human  laws,  had  made  one  at  least  to  be  uni- 
versal. The  jest  of  the  matter  is,  that  so  diversified  are  the 
caprices  of  mankind  that  not  a  single  one  of  this  kind  is  to 
be  found. 

"  We  see  scarcely  any  thing,  just  or  unjust,  that  does  not 
change  its  nature  in  changing  its  climate.  Three  degrees  of 
higher  latitude  reverses  all  jurisprudence.  A  meridian  deter- 
mines a  truth.  Fundamental  laws  are  changed  by  a  few  years' 
possession.  Right  has  its  eras.  The  entrance  of  Saturn  into 
Leo  marks  the  origin  of  such  a  crime.  What  ridiculous  jus- 
tice that  is  bounded  by  a  river !  Truth  on  this  side  the  Pyr- 
enees, error  on  that. 

"  This  is  my  dog,  that  is  my  place  in  the  sun,  say  these 
poor  children, — herein  lies  the  beginning  and  symbol  of  the 
usurpation  of  all  the  earth.1 

"  Nothing,  according  to  pure  reason,  is  just  of  itself.  Cus- 
tom makes  equity ;  by  this  alone  is  it  received ;  this  is  the 
mystic  foundation  of  its  authority.  Whoever  reduces  it  to  its 
principle,  destroys  it.  Nothing  is  so  faulty  as  the  laws  for  the 
redress  of  faults ;  he  who  obeys  them  because  they  are  just, 
obeys  the  justice  that  he  imagines  in  them,  but  not  the  essence 
of  the  law ;  it  is  wholly  absorbed  in  itself — it  is  the  law,  and 
nothing  more. 

"  Justice  is  subject  to  dispute ;  might  is  easily  recognizable 
without  dispute Being  unable  to  make  justice  might, 

i  There  is  true  and  false  property,  but  property  is  not  a  usurpation  in 
iteelf ;  it  has  a  natural  and  sound  foundation.  See  Cours  de  FHistoire  de  It 
Philosophie  moderne,  I"  Sdrie,  t.  iii,  p.  271. 


PASCAL   A8   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC.  99 

we  have  made  might  justice We  call  that  just  which 

we  are  forced  to  observe This  is  properly  the  defini- 
tion of  justice. 

"  Montaigne  was  wrong ;  custom  should  be  followed  only 
because  it  is  custom,  not  because  it  may  be  reasonable  or  just." 

But  what  avails  it  to  multiply  quotations  ?  It  would  be 
necessary  to  transcribe  a  thousand  passages  of  Montaigne, 
which  Pascal  calls  up,  condenses  or  elaborates,  not,  as  has 
been  said  by  some  kindly  disposed  editors,  in  order  to  refute 
them  at  leisure,  but,  on  the  contrary,  to  lean  on  them  and 
make  them  cerve  his  design. 

Do  y.ou  wish  to  know  the  politics  of  Pascal  ?  It  is  the 
worthy  offspring  of  his  ethics.  It  is  the  politics  of  slavery. 
Pascal,  like  Hobbes,1  places  the  ultimate  aim  of  human  society 
in  peace,  not  justice :  for  the  one,  as  for  the  other,  right  is 
might.  But  Hobbes  has  the  advantage  over  Pascal  of  rigor- 
ous consistency.  For  example,  he  takes  good  care  not  to 
admit  that  the  equality  of  property  would  be  just  in  itself,  in 
order  to  reach  the  admirable  practical  conclusion  that  it  is 
necessary  to  maintain  so  much  inequality  that  is  destitute  of 
all  foundation.  Can  any  thing  be  more  false — I  do  not  merely 
say  more  impracticable,  but  more  unjust  in  itself — than  the 
principle  of  equality  of  property  ?  It  is  not  in  this  that  lies 
true  equality.  All  men  have  an  equal  right  to  the  free  devel- 
opment of  their  faculties ;  they  all  have  an  equal  right  to  the 
impartial  protection  of  that  sovereign  justice  which  is  called 
the  State ;  but  it  is  not  true — it  is  contrary  to  all  the  laws  of 
reason  and  of  equity — it  is  contrary  to  the  eternal  nature  of 
things — that  the  indolent  man  and  the  worker,  the  spendthrift 
and  the  economist,  the  thoughtless  and  the  wise,  should  obtain 
and  preserve  an  equal  amount  of  property.  Curiously  enough, 
Pascal  accepts  the  chimera  of  equality  of  property,  and  builds 
thereon  the  odious  theory  of  the  right  of  might  in  the  interests 
of  peace. 


1  On  the  foundation  and  na'r'e  of  fue  equality,  Cours  de  VHistmre  de  la 
Philosophic  moderne,  I"  Sdrie,  t.  ii,  109.  xviii,  p.  244.     On  Hobbes,  lb.,  t.  iii. 


100  PASCAL    AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC    SKEPTIC. 

"  Without  doubt,"  says  Pascal,  "  the  equality  of  property  ii 
just;  but  being  unable  to  compel  might  to  obey  •justice,  we 
have  made  it  just  to  yield  obedience  to  might;  being  unable 
to  strengthen  justice,  we  have  justified  might,  that  justice 
and  might  may  go  side  by  side,  and  peace  result,  which  is 
the  sovereign  good. 

*'  Thence  comes  the  right  of  the  sword  ;  for  the  sword  gives 
a  true  right ;  otherwise  we  should  see  violence  on  one  side  and 
justice  on  the  other.  .  .  ." 

But  why,  I  pray  you,  should  we  voluntarily  shut  our  eyes  to 
this  spectacle  too  often  afforded  us  ?  Why  not  look  violence 
in  the  face,  and  call  it  by  its  name  ?  How  ev  ci  reform  that 
which  we  have  never  dared  denounce  as  an  abuse  or  a  crime  ? 
Is  this  the  philosophy  which  we  should  propose  to  humanity  ? 
What  foundation  has  its  dignity,  what  instrument  its  progress, 
what  consolation  its  miseries,  what  limit  its  hopes  ?  We  do 
but  little,  indeed,  when  we  promise  it  beyond  this  world  a  life 
which  shall  be  the  opposite  of  the  one  here  below,  and  we  have 
good  reason  to  teach  it  the  hatred  of  life  and  the  love  of  death  ; ' 
for  life,  as  men  make  it,  is  only  a  theatre  for  iniquity  and  folly. 
It  remains  to  ascertain  whether  those  are  really  the  more  re- 
ligious who,  in  point  of  justice,  refer  mankind  to  another 
world,  or  those  who  strive  to  assimilate  the  always  imperfect 
justice  of  men  to  the  model  of  divine  justice,  and  human  soci- 
ety to  the  kingdom  of  God.  If  the  object  of  religion  be  to 
reunite  man  to  God  and  the. earth  to  heaven,  ought  she  to  be 
contented  to  leave  man  on  earth  a  prey  to  oppression,  a  slave 
to  force,  crushed  down  beneath  immovable  iniquities  ?  No ; 
to  elevate  his  soul,  she  must  also  exalt  his  condition.  For 
there  is  none  but  a  free  being,  possessing,  practising,  and  see- 
ing the  holy  idea  of  justice  and  of  love  in  some  measure  real- 
ized and  shining  about  him,  who  could  invoke,  with  some 
degree  of  intelligence,  the  infinite  liberty,  justice,  and  charity 
that  made  man,  that  guides  him,  and  that  will  finally  receive 
him. 

1  See  Jacqueline  Pascal,  passim. 


PASCAL   AS    A    PHILOSOPHIC    SKEPTIC.  101 

All  great  philosophies  contain  within  themselves  a  natural 
ibeology,  and  also,  as  it  is  said,  a  theodicy  which  teaches  what 
we  have  just  recapitulated.  Before  and  since  Descartes  and 
Leibnitz,  with  various  processes,  sometimes  based  even  on  dif- 
ferent principles,  every  school  that  has  not  been  divorced  from 
common-sense  has  proclaimed  the  existence  of  a  God,  the  first 
cause  and  invisible  type  of  the  perfections  of  the  universe  as 
well  as  of  humanity.  There  is  not  a  single  philosopher  of  any 
authority,  that  does  not  draw  the  proof  of  an  eternal  geome- 
trician from  the  admirable  order  of  the  world,  and  the  hope,  at 
least,  of  a  moral  order,  better  than  our  own,  from  the  idea  of 
order  stamped  within  us,  and  which  we  carry,  with  more  or 
less  success,  into  every  thing  belonging  to  us, — our  habits,  our 
laws,  our  institutions,  civil  and  political.  But  Pascal,  who 
acknowledges  no  natural  ethics,  alike  rejects  all  natural  re- 
ligion, and  admits  no  proof  of  the  existence  of  God. 

And  let  it  not  be  said  that  Pascal  rejects  only  what  are 
styled  metaphysical  truths.  It  is  indeed  true  that  he  deems 
this  kind  of  truth  subtle  and  refined ;  but  it  is  not  true  that  he 
approves  any  other,  or  that  he  looks  with  favor  on  the  physi- 
cal proofs,  so  simple  and  so  evident :  even  these  he  discards 
with  disdain,  as  defeating  their  own  end  through  excess  of 
weakness. 

But  perhaps  Pascal  means  to  say  nothing  else  than  that 
man  is  incapable  of  penetrating  the  mysteries  of  the  divine 
essence,  and  that  at  this  height  he  meets  more  than  one  cloud 
which  the  Christian  faith  alone  can  dissipate.  Vain  explana- 
tion !  Pascal  declares  openly,  that  man  can  neither  know  what 
.8  God,  nor  even  whether  he  is.  These  are  the  very  words  of 
Pascal  which  we  have  quoted. 

But  what !  has  Pascal  then  made  ^a  discovery  of  some  argu- 
ment, unknown  hitherto,  and  whose  unexpected  omnipotence 
imposes  silence  on  the  unanimous  voice  of  the  human  race, 
the  cry  of  the  heart,  the  authority  of  the  sublimest  and  solidest 
geniuses  ?  No :  he  negligently  supports  himself  upon  this 
commonplace  of  skepticism,  that  man,  being  but  a  part,  cannot 
know  the  whole — as  if,  without  knowing  the  whole,  a  part 


102  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC    SKEPTIC. 

endowed  with  intelligence  could  not  comprehend  an  \  feel  that 
:t  has  not  created  itself,  and  that  it  springs  from  something 
quite  different  from  itself;  and  also  upon  this  other  common- 
place, that  God,  being  infinite,  and  man  finite,  there  can  be  nc 
affinity  between  the  two — as  if  man,  wholly  finite  as  he  is,  did 
not  incontestibly  possess  the  idea  of  the  infinite ;  as  if  Pascal 
nad  not  proved,  by  natural  enlightenment,  that  there  are  two 
tpecies  of  the  infinite — the  one  of  greatness  and  the  other  of 
littleness ;  as  if,  in  the  face  of  infinite  space,  he  had  not  him- 
self placed,  as  better  and  of  a  more  elevated  nature,  this  think 
ing  reed,  this  fragile  and  sublime  being,  which  appears  but  for 
a  day  and  an  hour,  yet  in  this  day,  in  this  hour,  through 
thought,  attains  and  embraces  the  infinite,  measures  the  worlds 
that  revolve  above  his  head,  and  refers  them  to  an  author,  all- 
powerful,  all-knowing,  and  all-good !  And  then,  when  from 
the  summit  of  this  proud  skepticism,  you  have  decided  that  all 
relation  between  God,  as  the  infinite,  and  man,  as  the  finite,  is 
radically  impossible,  by  what  charm,  I  pray  you,  will  Christi- 
anity be  able  afterwards  to  lead  man  to  God  ?  A  mediator  is 
no  longer  possible  here  :  for  this  mediator,  to  remain  God, 
must  preserve  a  portion  of  his  infinity ;  by  this  infinity  he 
must  necessarily  escape  the  grasp  of  man,  and  the  insuperable 
abyss  will  subsist  between  man  and  God.  Pascal  does  not 
perceive  that,  in  overthrowing  natural  religion,  he  takes  away 
the  foundation  of  all  revealed  religion,  or,  rather,  that  he  in- 
volves himself  in  contradictions  which  no  logic  can  support. 
But  let  us  establish  the  fact  that  Pascal  rejects  all  natural 
proofs  of  the  existence  of  a  God. 

"  If  man  would  first  study  himself,  he  would  see  how  incapa- 
ble he  is  of  going  further.  How  can  a  part  comprehend  the 
fhole  ? 

"  Philosophers.  A  fine  thing  to  cry  to  a  man  who  knows 
not  himself,  to  mount  from  himself  to  God  !  And  a  fine  thing 
to  tell  this  to  a  man  who  knows  himself! 

"  Let  us  speak  according  to  natural  intelligence.  If  there  ii 
a  God,  he  is  infinitely  incomprehensible,  since,  having  neithe  • 
parts  nor  bounds,  he  has  no  relation  to  us.  We  are,  there- 


PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC.  103 

fore,  incapable  of  knowing   either  what  he   is   or  whethei 
he  is. 

"  1  shall  not  undertake  to  prove,  by  natural  reasons,  either 
the  existence  of  God,  or  the  Trinity,  or  the  immortality  of  the 
soul :  not  only  because  I  do  not  feel  myself  strong  enougr, 
to  find  in  nature  wherewith  to  convince  obdurate  atheists 
but  .... 

"  The  metaphysical  proofs  of  God  are  so  remote  from  the 
reasoning  of  man  and  so  involved  that  they  do  not  strike  one ; 
and  even  though  they  may  avail  with  a  few,  it  will  be  but  for 
the  moment  in  which  they  witness  the  demonstration ;  an  hou, 
afterwards  they  will  fear  that  they  were  mistaken. 

"  What !  do  you  not  say  that  the  sky  and  the  birds  prove  a 
God  ?  No.  And  does  not  your  religion  affirm  it  ?  No ;  for 
though  this  is  true  in  a  manner  to  a  few  souls,  on  whom  God 
has  bestowed  this  light,  nevertheless  it  is  false  in  respect  to 
the  most. 

"  I  admire  the  hardihood  with  which  these  people  under- 
take to  speak  of  God  in  addressing  their  discourse  to  the  impi- 
ous. Their  first  chapter  is  to  prove  divinity  by  the  works  of 
nature.  I  should  not  be  astonished  at  their  attempt,  if  they 
addressed  their  discourse  to  the  faithful ;  for  it  is  certain  that 
vhose  who  have  a  lively  faith  within  their  hearts,  incontinently 
Bee  that  all  that  is,  is  nothing  else  than  the  work  of  God  whom 
they  adore  ;  but  for  those  in  whom  this  light  is  extinct,  and  in 
whom  it  is  designed  to  revive  it, — those  persons  destitute  of 
faith  and  grace,  who,  investigating  with  all  their  ability  all 
that  they  see  in  nature  that  may  lead  them  to  this  knowledge, 
find  only  obscurity  and  darkness, — to  say  to  these,  that  they 
have  only  to  observe  the  least  of  the  things  about  them,  and 
that  they  will  see  God  revealed  therein ;  and  to  give  them,  foi 
the  sole  proof  of  this  vast  and  important  subject,  the  course  o£ 
the  moon  and  stars,  and  to  pretend  to  complete  such  a  demon- 
stration without  trouble,  is  to  give  them  reason  to  believe  that 
ihe  proofs  of  our  religion  are  weak  indeed ;  and  I  perceive,  by 
reason  and  experience,  that  nothing  is  better  calculated  t« 
excite  a  contempt  of  it." 


104  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

We  see  how  in  this  last  passage  Pascal  treats  the  physical 
proofs  themselves — proofs  as  old  as  the  universe  and  human 
reason.  I  admit  that  his  design,  as  well  as  absolute  Pyrrho- 
nism, exacts  this  of  him ;  but  is  it  not  both  a  gratuitous  and  an 
incomprehensible  subversion  of  all  received  notions,  to  maintain 
in  a  serious  tone  that  this  kind  of  proofs,  being  only  suited  to 
excite  contempt,  no  canonical  author  has  ever  made  use  of 
them  ? 

"  It  is  a  marvellous  thing,  that  no  canonical  author  has 
ever  availed  himself  of  nature  to  prove  the  existence  of  a 
God :  all  strive  to  make  this  believed,  but  never  have  they 
said  :  There  is  no  void ;  therefore  there  is  a  God  :  they  must 
have  been  more  able  than  the  most  able  men  that  have  come 
after  them,  who  have  all  availed  themselves  of  it.  This  is  very 
remarkable." 

No,  indeed,  this  is  not  remarkable,  for  nothing  is  more  obvi- 
ously false.  The  Holy  Scriptures  are  not  a  course  of  physics ; 
they  do  not  hold  the  language  of  science,  much  less  that  of 
any  particular  system ;  they  do  not  say :  There  is  no  void ; 
therefore  there  is  a  God, — a  fantastic  argument  which  is  found 
nowhere  except,  perhaps,  in  the  writings  of  some  obscure  Car- 
tesian ;  but  they  teach,  and  this  in  every  page  and  every  way, 
that  the  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God.*  And  has  not  St. 
Paul,  to  whom,  I  hope,  Pascal  will  not  except,  said  :  "  That 
which  may  be  known  of  God  is  known  to  them,  God  himself 
having  made  it  manifest  to  them ;  for  the  invisible  greatness 
of  God,  his  eternal  power,  and  his  divinity,  have  been  made 
visible  in  his  works  since  the  creation  of  the  world." 3 

Thus,  to  Pascal,  there  is  no  proof  of  the  existence  of  a  God, 
In  the  absolute  impotence  of  reason,  he  invents  a  desperate 
argument.  We  may  set  truth  aside,  but  we  must  not  set  aside 
our  interest, — the  interest  of  our  eternal  happiness.  It  is  from 

1  The  IValiuist :  "  Cceli  enarrant  gloriam  Dei.  .  .  .  Laudent  ilium  oo&li 
et  terra  .  .  .  et  annuntiabunt  coeli  justi''am  ejus  .  .  .  confitebuntur  cceL 
mirabilia  t.  a  .  .  .  Laudate  eum,  coeli  cceloruin  .  .  .  confessio  ejus  supQ 
iceiumetteiram  .  .  .  interroga  et  volatilia  cceli,  indicabunt  tibi  .  .  .  etc. 

»  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  i,  19-21. 


PASCAL    AS    A    PHILOSOPHIC    SKEPTIC.  105 

Jiis  stand-point,  and  not  in  the  scale  of  reason,  that  we  must 
sstimate  and  weigh  the  problem  of  a  divine  providence.  If 
God  does  not  exist,  no  misfortune  can  happen  to  us  for  having 
believed  in  him  ;  but  if  by  chance  he  does  exist,  to  have  denied 
lim  will  be  fraught  for  us  with  the  most  terrible  consequences. 

"  Let  us  examine  this  point,  and  affirm  :  God  is  or  he  is  not. 
But  to  which  side  shall  we  incline  ?  Reason  can  here  deter- 
nine  nothing.  A  fathomless  chaos  separates  us  from  the 
truth ;  on  the  other  side  of  this  infinite  gulf  a  game  of  pitch- 
and-toss  is  being  played,  in  which  heads  or  tails  are  sure  to 
win.  On  which  side  will  you  stake  ?  By  reason,  you  could 
bet  upon  neither ;  by  reason,  you  could  defend  neither  of  the 
two.  .  .  .  The  true  way  would  be  not  to  bet  at  all.  Yes,  but 
you  must  bet.  .  .  .  You  have  two  things  to  lose, — truth  and 
good ;  and  two  things  to  redeem, — reason  and  will,  knowledge 
and  happiness ;  and  your  nature  has  two  things  to  shun, — 
error  and  misery.  Your  reason  is  none  the  more  deeply 
wounded,  since  you  are  forced  to  choose,  in  choosing  one  than 
the  other.  This  point  is  decided — but  your  happiness !" 

It  is  upon  this  foundation,  not  of  truth,  but  of  interest,  that 
Pascal  institutes  the  celebrated  calculus  to  which  he  applies 
the  rule  of  chances.  The  conclusion  is  as  follows :  to  the  eyes 
of  reason,  to  believe  or  not  to  believe  in  God,  to  be  for  him  or 
against  him,  to  wager  on  heads  or  tails — to  use  the  simile  of 
Pascal — is  alike  indifferent ;  but  to  the  eyes  of  interest,  the 
difference  is  infinite  between  the  two,  since  by  the  hypothesis 
there  is  an  infinity  to  gain.  "  This  is  demonstrative,"  says 
Pascal,  "  and  if  men  are  capable  of  any  truth,  it  is  this." 

But  this  fine  demonstration  is,  at  the  bottom,  so  far  from 
Deing  satisfactory,  that  after  having  thus  reduced  to  silence  the 
nterlocutor  to  whom  it  has  been  given,  he  cannot  hinder  him 
elf  from  saying : 

"  Yes,  I  confess  it,  I  acknowledge,  it ;  but  yet  is  there  no 
» »eans  of  seeing  the  trick  in  the  game  ?" 

And  to  appease  this  perverse  curiosity,  to  what  does  Pascal 
refer  him  ?  To  the  Holy  Scriptures — to  the  Christian  ro- 
jgion. 


PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

u  Very  well,"  replies  the  groaning  interlocutor,  vanquished 
out  not  convinced;  "but  I  am  so  constituted  that  I  cannot 
believe.  What  would  you  have  me  do,  then?" 

"  What  would  I  have  you  do  ?  Follow  my  example  ;  take 
holy  water,  order  masses  to  be  said,  etc.  Naturally  this  will 
make  you  believe,  and  stultify  you." 

"  But  that  is  what  I  fear." — "  And  why  ?  What  have  you 
to  lose?" 

We  were  the  first  to  discover  and  publish  this  overwhelm- 
ing passage, — the  faithful  summary  of  the  entire  book  ol 
Thoughts.  When  it  appeared,  it  staggered  for  a  moment  the 
boldest  partisans  of  Pascal ;  but  they  quickly  set  about  twist- 
ing and  subtilizing  it  in  so  many  ways,  that  they  ended  by 
discovering  in  it  the  most  beautiful  meaning  imaginable.  It 
has,  it  can  have  but  one  meaning :  it  is  necessary,  in  conform- 
ity with  a  precept  of  Pascal,  which  is  now  very  clear,  to 
renounce  reason — to  become  a  machine — to  have  recourse  in 
ourselves,  not  to  the  mind,  but  to  the  machine — to  succeed  in 
believing  in  God  by  degrees  through  the  insensible  declivity 
of  habit.  This  is  true,  or,  rather,  this  alone  is  true,  as  soon 
as  we  seek  God  from  the  stand-point  of  Pyrrhonism.  This  is 
all  the  faith — I  mean  all  the  natural  faith — allowed  Pascal  by 
his  sombre  philosophy.  The  master  of  Pascal,  the  Pyrrhonist 
Montaigne,  has  said  before  him  :  In  order  to  become  wise  we 
must  stultify1  ourselves.  Pascal  borrowed  from  him  both  the 
word  and  the  idea.  In  order  to  make  a  man  wise,  in  order 
to  lead  him  to  virtue  and  to  God,  Socrates  and  Marcus  Aure- 
lius  knew  other  ways. 

Let  us  anticipate  a  last  objection.  It  will  not  fail  to  be  said  : 
The  passage  which  has  just  been  cited  is  simply  a  caprice,  a 
gush  of  humor,  a  sort  of  geometric  freak ;  but  there  are  many 
other  passages  opposed  to  this,  which  attest  that  Pascal  be- 
lieved in  the  dignity  of  human  reason.  I  answer  honestly, 
that  in  fact  there  is  a  little  of  every  thing  in  those  diverse  note* 
which  are  styled  the  Thoughts :  what  must  be  considered  i» 

1  Essait,  1.  ii,  chap.  12. 


PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC.  107 

them,  is  not  a  single  passage  taken  by  itself,  separate  from  the 
rest,  but  the  general,  prevailing  spirit  of  the  whole.  Now, 
this  spirit  we  have  faithfully  expressed.  And  is  it  not  also  the 
condemnation  of  Pyrrhonism  that  in  vain  he  watches  over  all 
his  movements,  all  his  words,  that  despite  himself,  there  escape 
him  continual  contradictions  of  this  absolute  doubt,  insup- 
portable to  nature  and  incompatible  with  all  his  instincts? 
More  than  once,  the  victorious  sentiment  of  the  grandeur  of 
human  thought  breaks  forth  in  Pascal,  in  energetic  lines ;  but 
ere  long  philosophy  imposes  silence  on  the  man,  and  the  sys- 
tem resumes  the  ascendancy.  Thus  he  repeats,  several  times, 
that  all  our  dignity  is  in  thought :  here  thought  becomes  again 
a  thing  of  worth ;  but  a  moment  after  he  exclaims :  "  How 
Abolish  is  thought!" — that  which  makes  of  human  dignity  a 
folly,  and  of  all  certainty  based  on  thought  a  chimera.  Lastly, 
let  us  not  forget  that  behind  the  Pyrrhonist  is  the  Christian  in 
Pascal.  His  faith,  whatever  may  be  its  foundation  and  char- 
acter, is,  after  all,  the  Christian  faith :  hence  the  strange 
brightness  and  the  few  rays  which,  evolved  by  grace,  pierce  at 
long  intervals  the  darkness  of  Pyrrhonism.  But  when  grace 
is  withdrawn,  Pyrrhonism  alone  remains. 

At  the  risk  of  wearying  the  reader,  I  wish  to  present  to  him 
a  last  fragment,  which  completes  the  demonstration,  lays  bare 
the  real  thought  of  Pascal,  and  shows  of  what  stuff,  so  to  speak, 
his  religion  itself  was  made. 

"  If  nothing  must  be  done  except  for  the  certain,  nothing 
bhould  be  done  for  religion,  for  this  is  not  certain.  But  how 
many  things  are  'done  for  the  uncertain, — as  voyages  on  the 
sea,  battles,  etc.  I  affirm,  therefore,  that  it  would  be  unneces- 
sary to  do  any  thing  at  all,  since  nothing  is  certain,  and  that 
there  is  not  more  certainty  in  religion  than  that  we  shall 
see  to-morrow's  sun  ;  for  it  is  not  certain  that  we  shall  see  the 
morrow,  but  it  is  certainly  possible  that  we  may  not  see  it. 
We  cannot  say  as  much  for  religion.  It  is  not  certain  that 
she  is,  but  who  will  dare  to  say  that  it  is  certainly  possible 
that  she  is  not?  Now  when  we  work  for  the  morrow  and 
"or  the  uncertain,  we  act  with  reason.  For  we  should  work 


108  PASCAL    A8    A    PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

for  the  uncertain  by  the  rule  of  chances,  which  is  demon 
strated." ' 

Is  this,  I  ask,  the  faith  .of  St.  Augustine,  St.  Auselm,  St. 
Thomas,  Fenelon,  Bourdaloue,  Bossuet  ? 

On  the  23d  of  November,  1654,  in  a  night  full  of  anguish, 
soothed  and  charmed  by  mystic  visions,  Pascal,  after  having 
etruggled  for  the  last  time  with  the  fancies  of  the  world — the 
troubles  of  his  heart  and  thought — calls  to  his  aid  the  true, 
the  only  comforter.  He  invokes  God,- but  what  God,  I  pray 
you  ?  He  has  told  us  himself,  in  that  strange  writing 2  which 
he  traced  with  his  own  hand  on  that  very  night,  which  he 
always  carried  about  him,  and  which  was  not  discovered  until 
after  his  death  :  "  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  not  of 
scholars  and  philosophers."  He  caught  a  glimpse  of,  and  fan- 
cied he  found,  certainty  and  peace  ;  but  where  ?  "  In  entire 
submission  to  Jesus  Christ  and  my  spiritual  director."  The 
whole  of  Pascal  is  in  this.  Doubt  has  yielded,  at  last,  to  the 
omnipotence  of  grace,  but  vanquished  doubt  has  borne  away 
with  it  reason  and  philosophy ! 

Either  we  must  renounce  all  historical  criticism,  or  con- 
clude from  so  many  accumulated  quotations  that,  with  Pascal, 
skepticism  is  truth  in  the  philosophic  order,  that  natural  in- 
telligence is  incapable  of  furnishing  any  certainty,  that  the 
only  legitimate  use  of  reason  is  that  of  renouncing  reason, 
and  that  the  only  philosophy  is  the  contempt  of  all  philos- 
ophy. 

This  is  what  we  have  just  established,  regularly  and  method- 
ically, with  an  elaborateness  and  rigor  which,  it  appears  to  us, 
leaves  nothing  to  be  contested.  We  may,  therefore,  be  per- 
mitted to  consider  the  skepticism  of  Pascal  in  philosophy  as  a 
point  demonstrated.  But  we  may  go  still  further.  A  more 
intimate  acquaintance  with  Port-Royal,  by  enabling  us  to  pen- 
etrate more  deeply  into  the  spirit  of  that  illustrious  society 
permits  us  to  maintain,  with  the  most  assured  conviction,  tha* 
not  only  was  Pascal  a  skeptic  in  philosophy,  but  that  he  couW 

i  Bossut,  second  part,  xvii,  197.        *  Bossut,  p.  549 ;  man.,  p.  z. 


PASCAL    AS    A    PHILOSOPHIC   SKKPTTC.  109 

p.ot  but  be  so,  for  the  conclusive  reason  that  he  was  a  Jansen- 
ist,  and  a  consistent  Jansenist. 

What  is  Jansenism  ?  An  able  pen '  has  undertaken  the  task 
of  recounting  its  history :  it  suffices  that  we  recapitulate  ita 
principles  and  trace  its  general  character. 

In  our  days,  the  whole  truth  may  be  spoken  in  respect  to 
Jansenism.  Fathers  Annat  and  Letellier  are  no  longer  here 
t">  l&ten  to  our  words  and  carry  them  to  the  ears  of  Louitt 
XIV.  Port-Royal  is  no  more.  The  plough  has  passed  over 
the  holy  monastery  ;  its  very  ruins  will  ere  long  have  perished. 
We  visited  it,  a  few  days  since,  with  a  faithful  map  in  hand, 
and  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that  we  could  recognize  a  few 
of  these  venerable  places.  Nor  has  time  shown  more  respect 
to  the  spirit  which  animated  them.  A  dim  tradition  of  it 
faintly  exists  in  two  humble  societies  devoted  to  the  service  of 
children  and  the  poor.  A  few  brothers  of  St.  Anthony,  a  few 
sisters  of  St.  Martha,  are  all  that  are  left  of  that  great  people 
of  Port-Royal,  which  formerly  filled  the  religious  orders,  the 
parliaments,  and  the  universities.  At  Paris,  in  a  corner  of  the 
faubourg  Saint-Jacques  and  the  faubourg  Saint-Marceau,  three 
or  four  families  cherish  an  obscure  worship  for  these  illustrious 
memories ;  they  talk  among  themselves,  with  meditative  re- 
spect, of  the  virtues  and  misfortunes  of  Mother  Angelique,  of 
iier  sister  and  niece ;  they  pronounce  in  low  tones  the  illustri- 
ous names  of  Arnauld  and  Pascal ;  they  put  up  prayers  in 
secret  for  the  good  cause ;  they  detest  the  Jesuits,  and  fear 
them  most  of  all. .  Each  day  sweeps  away  some  of  this  band, 
nevermore  to  be  revived.  Port-Royal  is  fallen  into  the  domain 
of  history.  We  can,  therefore,  judge  it  with  respect,  but  with 
liberty.  And  besides,  we  too  have  learned  in  its  school  to 
prefer  truth  to  all  else;  and  since. others  are  now  arming 
themselves  with  this  holy  name  to  attack  that  which  to  us  is 
truth,  and  the  first  of  all  truths — namely,  the  legitimate  power 
of  reason  and  the  rights  of  philosophv — it  is  Port-Royal  itself 
tfhich,  at  need,  will  inspire  us  in  the  combat :  in  default  of  ita 


1  The  allusion  here  is  t-  Sunt-Beuve's  Port- Royal. — Si, 


110  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC    SKEPTIC. 

doctrine,  its  example  is  with  us  in  the  struggle  which  we 
maintain. 

Let  us  say  it,  then,  without  hesitation  :  Jansenism  is  an  im- 
moderate and  intemperate  Christianity.  By  all  its  roots  it 
clings  doubtless  to  the  Catholic  Church ;  but  in  more  than 
one  point,  without  wishing  or  even  knowing  it,  it  inclines  to 
Calvinism.  It  is  especially  based  upon  two  dogmas,  already 
of  great  weight  in  themselves,  which  it  perverts  vnd  exagger- 
ates :  I  mean  the  dogmas  of  original  sin  and  of  grace.  In 
touching  on  this  thorny  matter,  I  shall  endeavor  to  be  as  brief 
as  attention  to  perspicuity  will  permit. 

The  dogma  of  grace  is  allied  to  that  of  original  sin.  It  is 
because  human  nature  suffered  in  its  first  representative  a 
greater  or  less  degree  of  corruption,  that  it  stands  in  need  of  a 
reparation,  and  of  a  reparation  proportioned  to  its  corruption  : 
for  this  vice  of  nature,  the  necessary  remedy  is  the  supernatu- 
ral grace  of  Jesus  Christ.  These  two  dogmas  being  closely 
connected,  neither  can  be  altered  without  changing  the  other 
in  the  like  proportion.  Let  us  suppose  the  corruption  of  nature 
to  have  been  a  trifle  in  the  cradle  of  the  world :  the  interven- 
tion of  grace  becomes  almost  superfluous.  Let  us  suppose,  on 
the  contrary,  the  corruption  to  have  been  entire;  the  two 
essential  parts  of  human  nature — the  reason  and  the  will — to 
have  been  radically  vitiated  and  made  absolutely  incapable, 
the  former  of  perceiving  the  right  and  the  latter  of  executing 
it :  it  becomes  a  vital  necessity  that  grace  should  intervene, 
the  more  energetically,  since  it  is  in  question,  no  longer  to 
assist  and  strengthen  the  man,  but  in  reality  to  create  him 
anew,  by  substituting  for  reason  a  supernatural  enlightenment, 
and  foi  the  will  a  foreign  force.  The  Catholic  Church,  the 
guardian  and  interpreter  of  the  Christian  faith,  is  constantly 
placed  between  these  two  extremities.  The  Church  has  de- 
cided that  human  nature  really  fell  through  original  sin  ;  that 
reason  and  will  thus  lost  the  power  which  they  had  originally 
received — that  incomparable  power  tfhich  made  of  Adam  a 
creature  almost  like  unto  an  angel — perceiving  all  truths  ir 
iheir  very  source,  and  fulfilling  the  good  freely,  but  withou 


PASCAL   AS    A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC.  1H 

effort.  The  Church  has,  at  the  same  time,  decided  that 
through  original  sin,  nature  did  not  fall  to  that  point  that  rea- 
son became  absolutely  incapable  of  troth,  and  the  will  of  good 
— at  least,  in  the  order  of  natural  truths  and  virtues.  The 
Church  has  thus  anticipated  the  two  opposite  errors  on  the 
Biibject  of  grace.  And  upon  these,  she  has  given  these  two 
decisions,  conforming  with  the  two  first :  1st.  That  grace  is 
necessary  in  order  to  reveal  to  man  the  truths  and  virtues  of 
the  supernatural  order,  without  which  there  is  no  salvation ; 
2d.  That  grace  comes  to  the  aid  of  nature,  without  destroying 
it — that  it  does  not  extinguish  natural  intelligence,  but  en- 
lightens and  increases  it,  and  that  human  liberty  subsists  entire, 
with  the  works  that  are  suited  to  it,  under  the  influence  of 
grace.1 

Upon  all  these  points  Port-Royal  has  gone  beyond  the 
Catholic  doctrine.  In  exaggerating  the  power  of  original 
sin,  it  has  condemned  itself  to  exaggerate  that  of  redeeming 
grace. 

The  genius  of  Jansenism  is  the  dominant  feeling,  not  only  of 
the  weakness,  but  of  the  nothingness  of  human  nature.  In  its 
sight,  since  the  fall  of  Adam,  reason  and  will  have  been  in  them- 
selves radically  impotent,  for  truth  and  good.  Man  possesses 
no  other  grandeur  and  preserves  no  other  resource  than  the 
very  feeling  of  his  impotence,  with  that  of  the  necessity  of  a 
supernatural  aid.  This  supernatural  aid  is  grace — not  that 
•universal  grace  which  has  been  given  to  all  mankind,  and 
which  is  so  often  convicted  of  insufficiency,  but  that  especial, 
chosen  grace  which,  to  be  truly  sufficient,  must  be  efficacious 
through  itself — that  is,  irresistible.  This  works  in  us  by  sti- 
fling natural  intelligence  beneath  uncreated  intelligence,  and 
"by  putting  its  conquering  influence  in  the  place  of  the  weak- 
ness of  our  wilL  It  is  this  which  makes  us  think  and  act,  or, 
father,  it  is  this  which  thinks  and  acts  in  us ;  it  excites  the 


1  For  quotations,  we  eon  lent  ourselves  with  referring  to  the  Council  of 
Trent,  and  the  papal  bulls  and  declarations  condemnatory  of  the  book  c 
ianseniua 


112  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

thought  to  action,  communicates  the  strength  which  executes 
it,  and  our  works  are  its  works.1 

Such  is  the  Jansenist  system — a  mingling  of  truth  and 
error.  On  its  true  side,  it  is  the  Catholic  doctrine,  which  is 
not  here  in  question ;  on  its  false  side,  it  is  simply  a  particular 
theory,  which  falls  beneath  our  investigation.  Port-Royal  is  a 
great  party  in  the  Church  ;  but,  after  all,  it  is  only  a  party  ;  it 
is  not  the  Church  itself,  for  the  Church  has  condemned  it. 

What  is  essentially  false  in  the  Jansenist  grace  is,  that  it 
takes  away  all  power  from  the  natural  intelligence,  and  all 
efficacy  from  the  will.  The  Christian  grace  adds  its  bright- 
ness and  vivifying  influence  to  reason  and  human  liberty ;  it 
purifies  and  strengthens,  but  does  not  annihilate  them  ;  far 
from  denying,  it  supposes  their  existence ;  it  fructifies,  but  does 
not  create ;  it  does  not  apply  itself  to  nothingness,  but  to  a 
germ  of  the  Divine,  which  it  evolves  and  develops.  Its  singu- 
lar virtue  lies  in  producing  a  faith  which  natural  intelligence 
does  not — the  faith  in  supernatural  truths.  But  it  is  not  this 
alone  that  teaches  man  liberty,  duty,  the  distinction  between 
good  and  evil,  just  and  unjust,  the  immortality  of  the  soul, 
Divine  Providence :  without  grace,  natural  intelligence  can 
teach  all  this,  and  has  taught  it  in  every  age.  According  to 
the  Church,  natural  reason  is  a  first  revelation,  possessing  a 
power  in  itself.  According  to  Jansenism,  this  first  revelation 
remains  absolutely  sterile,  without  the  aid  of  a  new  and  espe- 
cial revelation. 

As  all  truths  are  contained  in  the  Catholic  doctrine,  in  the 
same  manner  are  all  errors  linked  together  in  the  Jansenist 
theory.  Grace  should  there  be  victorious  and  invincible,  since 
there  the  corruption  of  human  nature  is  entire — since  such  an 
evil  demands  a  sovereign  remedy — since,  from  the  nothingness 
of  nature,  God  alone  can  draw  true  justice  and  true  virtue. 
This  principle  of  the  nothingness  of  human  nature  includes 
yet  another  consequence  alike  necessary, — the  nothingness  of 
the  merit  of  our  works.  These  belong  to  grace  when  they  are 

1  See  the  first  Provinciates. 


PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC.  113 

good ;  sin  alone  is  ours,  since  sin  is  the  result  of  a  corrupt 
nature.  Hence  the  perpetual  trembling  of  the  human  creature, 
uncertain  whether  it  is  grace  that  is  working  in  it,  or  its  own 
mind  and  natural  intelligence ;  hence  excessive  austerities,  and 
an  ardent  and  sombre  asceticism,  the  world  converted  into  a 
Thebais  or  Calvary,  the  flight  of  the  most  innocent  pleasures, 
impatience  of  life  and  invocation  of  death,  and,  in  anticipa- 
tion, continual  efforts  to  die  to  the  life  of  nature,  and  only  suffer 
i»aat  of  grace  to  subsist ;  hence  immense  humility  and  immense 
pride — the  one  arising  from  the  feeling  of  our  nothingness,  the 
other  from  the  feeling  of  the  working  of  God  within  us — with 
marvellous  courage,  capable  of  resisting,  in  the  name  of  God, 
all  the  powers  of  earth,  even  the  chief  of  all,  that  of  the  Holy 
See ;  hence,  in  a  word,  admirable  greatness,  with  excess  of 
every  kind,  in  doctrine  and  in  conduct — excess  and  greatness 
blending,  sustaining  each  other,  and  falling  together,  since 
they  hold  to  the  same  principle, — the  nothingness  of  nature 
and  the  invincible  power  of  grace.  To  separate,  in  Port-Royal, 
greatness  from  excess,  good  from  evil,  the  true  from  the  false, 
to  cut  off  the  one  and  retain  the  other — how  vain  the  under- 
taking! All  here  proceeds  from  the  same  foundation.  To 
temper  Port-Royal  is  to  destroy  it.  Let  us  leave  it,  then,  its 
greatness  and  its  faults.  Let  us  acknowledge  in  Port-Royal 
the  lofty  qualities  that  commend  it  to  the  veneration  of  ages, — 
rectitude,  consistency,  intrepidity,  devotion ;  but  let  us  also 
acknowledge  that  it  has  been  lacking  in  two  still  more  eminent 
qualities, — common-sense  and  moderation,  that  is,  in  true 
wisdom. 

Jansenism  thus  defined,  what  could  philosophy  be  to  it? 
Indeed,  after  what  precedes,  it  is  hardly  needful  to  say.  Jan- 
enism  and  philosophy  exclude  each  jother.  According  to  Jan- 
Benism,  grace  can  do  every  thing,  nature  nothing ;  and  natural 
reason,  deprived  of  the  light  of  grace,  wanders  in  the  midst  of 
insuperable  darkness.  Philosophy,  on  the  contrary,  as  we 
have  said,  is  established  on  the  foundation  that  man,  even  in 
his  present  state,  possesses  a  faculty  of  knowing,  limited  yet 
real,  and  capable,  if  well  directed,  of  attaining  natural  truths,  of 


114:  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

the  moral  order  as  well  as  truths  of  the  physical  order.  An 
there  is  a  science  of  geometry,  physics,  astronomy,  etc.,  so,  in 
the  same  manner  and  by  the  same  right,  there  is,  or  there  may 
be  a  science  of  psychology,  logic,  ethics,  theodicy — in  a  word, 
of  philosophy.  The  physical  sciences  rest  on  sensible  experi- 
ence ;  philosophy  rests  at  the  same  time  upon  the  senses  and 
consciousness :  the  data,  and,  therefore,  the  processes  differ ; 
but  the  data  are  alike  reliable,  the  processes  alike  rigorous,  and 
the  common  principle  acknowledged  by  the  physical  sciences 
and  by  philosophy  is  natural  reason  freely  and  methodically 
cultivated.  According  to  Port-Royal,  all  the  human  sciences 
— the  moral  sciences  in  particular,  with  philosophy  at  their 
head — are  but  chimeras,  the  offspring  of  impotence  and  pride ; 
the  only  true  science  is  that  of  salvation,  the  imperious  condi- 
tion of  which  is  the  supernatural  intervention  of  grace — a  grace 
at  once  gratuitous  and  irresistible.  Jansenism  must  go  as  far 
as  this,  or  it  has  not  its  full  scope ;  it  can  accept  philosophy, 
therefore,  only  with  manifest  inconsistency. 

And  whence  comes  this  inconsistency?  From  weakness, 
either  of  character  or  of  logic.  But  the  logic  of  Pascal  was  as 
lofty  as  his  passionate  and  obstinate  character.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  choose  between  Jansenism  and  philosophy.  Pascal 
had  chosen,  and  too  firmly  ever  to  turn  aside  from  the  goal  or 
to  waver  on  the  road. 

Pascal,  as  we  have  seen,  was  a  declared  skeptic  in  philoso- 
phy ;  it  is  now  evident  that  he  could  not  be  otherwise.  Exam- 
ine anew,  by  the  light  of  the  Jansenist  theory  which  has  just 
been  exposed,  the  passages  in  the  book  of  Thoughts  in  which 
skepticism  appears,  as  it  would  seem,  in  its  boldest  form,  and 
far  from  finding  them  paradoxical,  you  will  recognize  there  the 
avowed  principles  and  spirit  of  Port-Royal.  Pascal  affirms 
and  repeats  that  there  is  no  natural  certainty.  What  is  there 
surprising  in  this  ?  The  opposite  would  be  to  Pascal  the  mosj 
indefensible  novelty.  For  what  is  there  that  could  give  hinr. 
certainty  ?  A  totally  corrupt  reason,  which  is  radically  pow 
fcrless  without  grace.  There  is  no  natural  proof  of  the  exist 
ence  of  God  :  God  is  neither  revealed  to  us  by  the  wonders  o 


PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC    SKEPTIC.  115 

rature  nor  of  consciousness.  Nothing  can  be  more  simple,  if 
the  senses  and  consciousness  have  been  deceptive  mirrors  since 
the  fall  of  Adam.  Before  Jesus  Christ,  man  could  not  know 
whence  he  was.  Assuredly  not,  for  before  Jesus  Christ,  he 
was  condemned  to  error  and  vice.  Since  Jesus  Christ,  man,  it 
is  true,  has  been  able  to  know  both  himself  and  his  Creator — 
but  how  1  By  grace,  and  by  grace  alone.  If  man,  indeed,  by- 
natural  means,  could  attain  the  knowledge  of  himself  and  God, 
grace — meaning  always  the  Jansenist  grace — would  be  super- 
fluous. This  must  not  be  at  any  rate ;  it  is  necessary,  there- 
fore, to  maintain,  that  without  grace  man  would  be  unable  to 
know  of  God,  not  only  what  he  is,  but  that  he  is.  This  is 
neither  the  light  of  reason  nor  of  feeling  ;  it  is  the  fire  of  grace 
which  penetrates  the  heart  of  man  with  the  idea  of  the  great- 
ness of  the  soul,  and  with  the  idea  of  God.  The  God  who, 
then,  appears  to  us,  is  not  the  God  of  scholars  and  philosophers , 
it  is  the  Ood  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob.  Man  is  not  capa- 
ble of  true  virtue  by  the  legitimate  use  of  his  natural  liberty , 
but  he  may  become  so  by  the  transfiguration  of  this  liberty 
into  a  divine  power,  which  acts  within  us,  often  despite  oui- 
selves,  and  the  works  of  which  do  not  belong  to  us.  To  de- 
stroy the  natural  man,  to  stultify  him — that  is,  to  deprive  him 
of  this  reason  and  liberty  which  he  vaunts  as  a  privilege — to 
cast  him  blind  and  submissive  into  the  hands  of  the  grace  of 
Jesus  Christ  and  the  spiritual  guide  who  represents  him, — 
such  is  the  sole  means  of  conducting  him  to  truth,  virtue, 
peace,  happiness.  This  being  so,  philosophy  is  evidently  not 
worth  a  single  hour  of  pains,  and  to  despise  it  is  truly  to 
philosophize. 

Pascal  did  go,  and  should  have  gone,  as  far  as  this ;  had  he 
not  carried  the  principles  which  he  had  embraced  to  this 
extremity,  he  would  have  fancied  that  he  was  abandoning 
them  ;  he  would  have  been  in  his  own  eyes  a  pusillanimous 
dhciple  of  grace. 

When  we  have  thus  penetrated  to  the  heart  of  Jansenism 
we  cannot  but  smile  on  seeing  the  efforts  of  the  modern  parti- 
sans of  Pascal  to  defend  him  against  the  accusation  of  skept> 


116  PASCAL   A8    A   PHILOSOPHIC    SKEPTIC. 

cism.  But  this  accusation  is  to  his  honor  ;  it  is  your  defence 
that  would  be  to  him  an  accusation  of  infidelity  to  the  two 
great  principles  of  the  nothingness  of  human  nature,  and  the 
omnipotence  of  grace.  For  these  two  principles,  Pascal  and 
his  sister  would  willingly  have  given  something  more  than  all 
the  systems  of  philosophy  :  they  would  have  been  happy  to 
shed  their  blood.  Weak  minds,  who  comprehend  neither 
Port-Royal  nor  the  seventeenth  century,  you  do  not  suspect 
that  your  injurious  apologies  take  from  Port-Royal  its  true 
character,  and  from  the  penitent  of  M.  Singlin,  the  bi  other  of 
Jacqueline,  that  singular  feature  of  pride  and  irony  in  respect 
to  reason  and  philosophy,  and,  at  the  same  time,  of  absolute 
submission  in  the  hands  of  grace,  which  made  of  Pascal  a  man 
of  mark  even  in  Port-Royal,  and  placed  him,  as  regards  Jan- 
senism, far  above  Nicole,  and  even  Arnauld  ! 

Strange  to  say,  in  Port-Royal,  Saint-Cyran  excepted,  the 
most  rigid  were  not  men,  but  women,  not  ecclesiastics,  but  lay- 
men, not  Nicole  and  Arnauld,  but  Domat  and  Pascal.  In  the 
important  affair  of  the  formulary,1  the  women,  with  Jacqueline 
at  their  head,  were  of  the  opinion  that  it  were  better  to  brave 
every  thing  than  to  subscribe  to  the  contrary  of  that  which 
seemed  to  them  the  truth.  They  only  signed  it  through  defer- 
ence to  those  who  governed  Port-Royal ;  and  Jacqueline  suc- 
cumbed, three  months  after  the  fatal  signature,  beneath  her 
scruples  and  anguish  of  conscience.  In  a  meeting  held  at  the 
house  of  Pascal,  the  latter  proposed  resistance.9  The  Jansenist 

1  The  story  of  this  affair  is  to  be  found  everywhere.  I  have  related  the 
principal  features  of  it  in  Jacqudin*  Pascal,  and  in  the  Documents  ineditt 
tur  Domat,  t.  iii  of  this  4th  series. 

4  Lot  c.3  place  before  the  eyes  of  the  reader  this  scene,  which  so  well 
depicts  the  soul  of  Pascal. — Ibid.  "  The  majority  of  those  present,  led  br 
Nicole  and  Arnauld,  gave  their  voice  for  the  signature.  '  Seeing  which,' 
says  the  Recueil  d'  Utrecht,  •  after  Mademoiselle  Perier,  M.  Pascal,  who  loved 
truth  above  all  things,  and  who,  despite  his  weakness,  had  spoken  very 
warmly  to  make  the  others  feel  what  he  felt  himself,  was  so  overcome  by 
grief,  that  he  fell  into  a  swoon,  and  lost  both  speech  and  consciousness 
Evorybod^  was  surprised,  and  hastened  to  his  assistance.  These  people 
afterwards  withdrew,  and  no  one  was  left  but  M.  de  Boannez,  M.  Domat 
uid  M.  P4rier,^K».  When  M.  Pascal  had  quite  recovered,  M.  Perier  aske« 


PASCAL   AS    A    PHILOSOPHIC    SKEPTIC.  117 

grace  had  become  the  whole  truth  to  him — the  beginning  and 
end  of  Christianity.  For  it,  he  advised  that  they  should  haz- 
ard every  thing,  even  Port-Royal.  But  Port-Royal  was  not 
alone  at  stake :  ecclesiastical  discipline,  and  the  unity  of  the 
Church,  were  also  in  question.  Pascal  and  his  sister  did  not 
recoil  before  this  extremity.  This  young  woman,  not  }et 
thirty-six  years  of  age,  dared  say  to  a  priest,  a  doctor,  M.  Ar 
nauld,  with  a  loftiness  and  vehemence  worthy  of  her  brother, 
or  of  Demosthenes  :  "  I  can  no  longer  disguise  the  grief  which 
pierces  me  to  the  heart's  core,  on  seeing  that  the  only  persons 
to  whom  it  seemed  that  God  had  confided  his  truth,  are  so  un- 
faithful to  it  as  not  to  have  the  courage  to  expose  themselves 
to  suffering,  even  though  it  were  death,  in  order  to  confess  it 
openly. ...  I  know  well  that  it  is  said  that  it  is  not  for  women 
to  defend  the  truth ;  but  may  it  not  be  said,  at  this  juncture 
of  time,  this  subversion  of  order,  that  since  bishops  have  the 
courage  of  women,  women  ought  to  have  the  courage  of 
bishops  ?  But  if  it  does  not  belong  to  us  to  defend  the  truth, 
it  belongs  to  us  to  die  for  it What  is  it  that  we  fear ! 

O 

Banishment  for  the  seculars,  dispersion  for  the  religious,  the 
seizure  of  temporal  goods,  imprisonment, — death,  if  you  will  ? 
Yet  is  not  this  our  glory,  and  should  it  not  be  our  joy  ?  Let 
us  renounce  the  Gospel,  or  follow  its  maxims,  and  esteem  our- 
selves happy  in  suffering  something  for  justice.  But  perhaps 
we  may  be  cut  off  from  the  Church  ?  But  who  does  not  know 
that  no  one  can  be  cut  off  without  his  own  consent,  and  that 
the  spirit  of  Jesus.  Christ  being  the  only  power  that  unites  the 
members  to  him,  and  among  themselves,  we  may,  indeed,  be 
deprived  of  the  tokens,  but  never  of  the  eifects  of  this  union, 
so  long  as  we  preserve  charity.'"  And  on  these  grounds, 
Pascal  and  his  sister  proposed  to  stand  firm,  to  refuse  the  sig- 


him  what  had  cunsed  the  accident.  '  When  I  saw  all  those  people,'  re- 
plied he,  'whom  I  regard  a.s  those  1 1  whom  Grd  has  revealed  the  truth, 
and  who  ought  to  be  the  defenders  of  it  stagger.  I  -Confess  that  I  was  seized 
with  such  grief  that  I  could  nH  support  it,  but  was  forced  to  succumb.'  " 
i  Jacqueline  Pascal,  letter  on  the  signature  of  the  formulary,  t.  ii,  of  that 


118  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

nature,  and,  if  necessary,  to  disobey  the  canonical  authority 
of  the  bishops  and  Holy  See ;  a  violent  course,  which  would 
have  openly  separated  Port-Royal  from  the  Catholic  Church, 
and  nevertheless  was  but  strict  fidelity  to  the  Jansenist  doc- 
trine of  grace.  Nicole  and  Arnauld  did  not  pique  themselves 
on  so  much  rigor :  they  did  not  wish  to  carry  consistency  to 
schism ;  but  for  this,  they  were  forced  to  waver  a  little  betweec 
sincerity  and  prudence.  The  great  Madame  Angelique  rejoiced 
at  dying  in  this  terrible  juncture,  in  order  neither  to  sign  noi 
refuse  to  sign.  The  authority  of  Arnauld  carried  away  Port- 
Royal  ;  but,  if  Saint-Cyran  had  been  there,  logic  would  doubt- 
less have  vanquished  policy,  and  God  alone  knows  what  would 
have  been  the  result. 

It  may  be  said  that,  in  respect  to  philosophy,  Port-Royal 
stood  almost  the  same  as  in  respect  to  the  formula.  The  spirit 
of  Port-Royal  was  contrary  to  philosophy ;  but  she  influenced 
it  through  the  habits  and  ascendency  of  two  eminent  men. 

Turn  over  the  works  of  these  authors,  the  memoirs,  narra- 
tives, letters,  and  all  that  remains  of  Port-Royal,  and  you  will 
find  everywhere  the  condemnation  of  all  curiosity  that  turns 
aside  from  salvation,  its  only  legitimate  object,  with  a  declared 
contempt  of  all  the  purely  human  sciences,  particularly  of  phi- 
losophy. Sacy  is  not  the  highest  representative  of  Port-Royal, 
but  he  is,  to  my  mind,  its  calmest,  purest,  and  truest  expres- 
sion. He  exaggerates  none  of  the  principles  of  Jansenism, 
but  he  possesses  and  professes  them  all  with  the  moderation  of 
assurance,  and  with  a  sort  of  inflexible  gentleness.  Now,  ask 
Fontaine  for  Sacy's  opinion  in  respect  to  Cartesian  ism  and  phi- 
losophy. Fontaine  will  tell  you  that  he  blamed  his  two  illus- 
trious friends  strongly  for  their  attachment  to  the  new  philoso- 
phy.1 "  Smiling  pleasantly  when  he  was  addressed  on  these 
matters,  he  seemed  rather  to  pity  those  who  dwelt  on  them, 
than  to  have  the  wish  to  dwell  on  them  himself.  ....  He 
Baid  that  M.  Descartes  stood  in  respect  to  Aristotle  like  a  thiei 
who  has  just  killed  another  thief,  and  despoiled  him.  Goc 

1  Mevurires  of  Fontaine,  t.  ii,  p.  53. 


PASCAL  AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC.  119 

created  the  world  for  two  things,"  said  he;  "the  one  to  give 
an  exalted  idea  of  himself,  the  other  to  portray  things  invisible 
in  the  visible.  M.  Descartes  destroys  both.  Instead  of  recog- 
nizing the  invisible  in  the  visible,  as  in  the  sun,  which  is  the 
god  of  nature,  and  of  seeing  in  all  its  effects  in  plants  the  sym 
bol  of  grace,  he  pretends,  on  the  contrary,  to  give  a  reason  foi 
all  by  certain  crotchets  of  his  own  imagination.  I  compare 
these  philosophers  to  those  ignorant  persons  who,  on  seeing  a 
fine  painting,  instead  of  admiring  the  beauty  of  the  work,  pause 
at  each  color,  and  say,  What  is  this  red  ?  Of  what  is  it  com- 
posed ?  It  is  of  this  thing  or  of  that These  men  seek 

truth  by  groping ;  it  is  a  great  chance  whether  they  find  it." 
Such  were  the  real  sentiments  of  Port-Royal  towards  Car- 
tesianism  and  philosophy.  Then,  too,  when  M.  Singlin  sent 
his  new  penitent  to  Port-Royal-des-Champs,  "  it  was,"  says 
Fontaine,1  "  that  M.  Arnauld  might  try  his  strength  in  the  sci- 
ences, and  that  M.  de  Sacy  might  teach  him  to  despise  them." 
Pascal  quickly  conformed  himself  to  this  school,  and  soon  at- 
tained to  the  stand-point  of  Sacy ;  but  with  his  temper,  he 
could  not  content  himself  with  setting  philosophy  aside :  he 
trampled  it  under  foot.  And  here  again,  the  exact  logician, 
the  principles  of  Port-Royal  admitted,  was  Pascal ;  Nicole  and 
Arnauld  were  once  more  for  common-sense  and  inconsistency. 
Why  ?  For  many  reasons,  which  it  would  take  too  long  to 
make  known.  Let  us  note  a  few  of  them  briefly. 

At  first  Pascal  had  all  the  ardor  of  a  neophyte.  Converted 
at  the  close  of  1654,  and  dying  in  the  middle  of  1662,  during 
this  short  interval,  filled  with  the  terrible  conflicts  of  the  Pro 
vinciales,  with  cruel  ills  and  with  a  death-struggle  of  neailj 
two  years,  Pascal,  born  with  a  boiling  temper*  a  strength  and 
rigor  of  mind  heightened  by  the  habits  of  geometric  method 
launched  at  once  into  the  extremes  of  the  Jansenist  doctrine 
as  soon  as  he  had  embraced  the  g~ace  of  Jesus  Christ,  ho  knew, 
ae  followed  only  this*  For  this,  he  would  have  shed  his  blood 


1  Memoires  of  Fontaine,  t.  ii,  p.  55. 

*  Jacqueline  Pascal,  letter  of  the  8th  of  December,  1664. 


120  PASCAL   AS    A.   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

on  the  question  of  the  formulary  :  he  did  more,  he  made  of  his 
whole  life  a  continued  death ;  he  died  to  all  feelings  of  even 
the  most  innocent  pleasure;1  and  when  he  felt  his  last  hour 
approaching,  the  better  to  imitate  the  example  of  Christ,  he 
begged  with  the  most  ardent  entreaty  to  go  into  a  hospital  to 
yield  up  the  ghost  upon  the  pallet  of  a  pauper.  In  practice  as 
in  theory,  the  peculiar  characteristic  of  Pascal  was  that  of  in- 
flexible consistency  towards  others  and  himself;  while  at  the 
same  time  he  joined  to  this  energy,  a  candid  soul  and  the  finest 
mind.  He  had  in  him  the  child,  the  wit,  the  hero,  and  the 
fanatic,  He  neither  took  nor  did  any  thing  by  halves.  Now 
when  one  carries  attachment  to  a  principle  so  far  as  to  sacrifice 
to  it  all  the  sweets  of  life,  it  costs  but  little  to  add  to  this  sac- 
rifice philosophy.  And  in  truth,  on  the  part  of  Pascal,  this 
last  sacrifice  had  no  very  great  merit. 

Philosophy  at  that  time  was  styled  Cartesianism.  Pascal 
was  perfectly  master  of  the  mathematical  and  physical  part 
of  this  great  philosophy,  but  here  he  stopped  short.  Partly 
through  severity  of  spirit,  partly  through  lack  of  breadth,  Pas- 
cal did  not  aspire  to  universal  views  of  nature.  This  was 
doubtless  a  sure  means  of  avoiding  many  errors,  but  through 
this,  he  at  the  same  time  failed  to  attain  the  highest  fame — to 
place  his  name  side  by  side  with  those  of  Galileo,  Descartes, 
Newton,  and  Leibnitz.  He  formed  part  of  a  little  circle  of 
people  of  wit  and  merit,  in  which  it  was  the  fashion  to  dis- 
parage Descartes  and  attack  him  on  his  weak  points,  such,  for 
example,  as  the  subtlety  of  matter  and  some  other  hypotheses, 
which  was  easy  enough,  without  substituting  any  thing  in  their 
place,  which  was  very  convenient.  From  time  to  time,  Des- 
cartes administered  rough  lessons  to  the  rashest  of  this  little 
circle,  the  fiery  and  jealous  Roberval.8  In  the  matter  of  the 
weight  of  the  atmosphere,  a  quarrel  took  place  between  Pascal 
and  Descartes,  which  has  never  yet  been  clearly  explained,  in 
which  Pascal,  who  worshipped  glory,  was  at  least  to  blarne  in 


Vie  de  Pascal,  by  Madame  Perier. 

Montucla,  Histoire  deg  Ma.ihematiqv.es,  t.  ii,  pp.  55  and  1 44. 


PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC    SKEPTIC.  121 

too  nearly  forgetting  the  name  of  Descartes  among  tho»e  who 
bad  put  him  on  the  way  of  his  celebrated  experiments.1  These 
two  geniuses  were  diametrically  opposite  and  little  calculated 
to  comprehend  each  other.  The  one,  essentially  creative,  un- 
ceasingly discovered  new  principles  everywhere ;  he  compre- 
hended and  ruled  over  every  part  of  human  knowledge ;  he 
aspired  to  the  system  of  the  universe  and  almost  attained  it.s 
The  other  excelled  in  scientific  processes  and  the  complex 
solution  of  particular  problems.  Pascal  perfected  and  fixed 
forever  the  language  of  reason,  but  it  was  Descartes  that  dis- 
covered it.  The  head  of  Pascal  was  not  less  strong  than  that 
of  Descartes,  but  it  was  not  so  ample.  Devoted  at  an  early 
age  to  the  study  of  mathematics  and  physics,  it  is  not  clear 
that  Pascal  ever-  gave  great  attention  to  philosophy,  properly 
so  called.  No  traces  of  any  metaphysical  studies  appear  either 
in  his  life  or  his  works.  He  had  read  without  doubt  the 
Methode  and  Meditations,  and  had  retained  from  these  the 
great  principle  of  thought  as  the  token  and  proof  of  existence. 
But  Roberval  himself  had  not  dared  to  reject  this  principle;8 
it  was  found  in  St.  Augustine,  and,  in'  admitting  it,  Pascal  had 
only  followed  the  general  opinion.  Logic  alone  had  seriously 
occupied  him,  and  of  this  logic,  only  definition,  which  belongs 
to  mathematics  as  much  as  to  philosophy.  The  only  two  phi- 
losophers whom  he  really  knew,  and  with  whose  spirit  he  was 
evidently  imbued,  were  Montaigne  and  his  disciple  Charron — 
that  is,  two  skeptics.  Skepticism  paved  the  way  admirably  to 
the  dogma  of  the  nothingness  of  human  nature,  while,  on  the 


1  Baillet,  in  the    Vie  des  Descartes,   demonstrates,   by  Descartes'  owe 
letters,  how  little  justice  was  shown  by  Pascal  towards  his  celebrated 
predecessor.     Bossut,  in  his  Discovrs  sur  ui  vie  et  Its  oitvrages  d*i  Pascal, 
treats  Baillet  "upon  this  point  with  much  disdain.    Montucla,  whose  im 
partiality  and  information  cannot  be  contested,  gives  almost  the  same 
Judgment  as  Baillet,  Histoire  des  Matkematiqu.es,  t.  ii,  p.  205. 

2  He  was  the  first  to  enounce  the  problem  which  Newton  resolved 
"  Descartes  was  the  first  to  reduce  the  cause  of  the  motion  of  the  heavenly 
Sodies  to  science,"  says  Laplace,  Systeme  du  monde,  liv.  v,  chap.  v. 

•  See  in  our  Fragments  de  Pldlosopkie  cartesienne,  the  article  entitled 
Roberval  pkilosophe,  p.  242. 

fi 


122  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

other  hand,  this  dogma  called  for  and  confirmed  skepticism. 
When  grace,  therefore,  penetrated  the  mind  of  Pascal,  finding 
it  void  of  all  great  philosophical  doctrine,  it  easily  took  entire 
possession  of  it :  the  Jansenist  faith  surprised  him  in  the  abyss 
of  Pyrrhonism,  and,  instead  of  extricating  him,  enchained  him 
there. 

It  was  not  thus,  it  could  not  have  been  thus,  with  Nicole 
and  Arnauld.  Both  possessed  a  foundation  of  philosophic 
study  and  knowledge  which  rendered  them  proof  against 
Jansenism. 

Nicole  had  studied  philosophy  with  distinction  at  the  Uni- 
vf.rsity  of  Paris.  He  was  admitted  master  of  arts  in  1641. 
Checked  in  his  theological  and  ecclesiastical  career  by  the 
troubles  excited  by  the  celebrated  five  propositions  of  M.  Cor- 
net in  the  Sorbonne,  and  early  allied  with  Port-Royal,  where 
he  had  two  aunts,  nuns,  one  of  whom,  Mother  Marie  des  Aiiges 
Suireau,  had  been  abbess  and  reformer  of  Maubuisson,  and 
died  abbess  of  Port-Royal  in  1658,  he  taught  belles-lettres  and 
philosophy  several  years  at  the  Granges.1  His  course  of  logic 
is  the  foundation  of  the  book  which  was  afterwards  composed 
in  peculiar  circumstances  and  published  under  the  title  of  La 
Logique  ou  Part  de  penser.  This  book  is  at  once  Arnauld's 
and  Nicole's.  It  is  fully  imbued  with  Cartesianism.  It  opposes 
Pyrrhonism  at  every  turn,  as  well  as  the  philosophy  based 
upon  the  maxim  that  all  thought  derives  its  origin  from  the 
senses.  It  professes  the  Cartesian  principle  that  we  have  a 
natural,  clear,  and  positive  idea  of  the  soul  and  of  God.  The 
two  excellent  preliminary  discourses  are  from  the  hand  of 
Nicole.1  The  first  and  most  important  is  almost  entirely  de- 
voted to  the  refutation  of  skepticism  and  defence  of  philosophy. 
1  am  really  very  sorry  for  Pascal,  but  see  how  Nicole  treats  his 
beloved  Pyrrhonists .  "  Pyrrhonism,"  says  he,  "  is  not  a  sect 


1    Vie  de  Nicole,  t.  xiv,  of  the  Essais  de  morale,  p.  23:  "He  taught  liinr 
Tillemont)  philosophy,  and  gave  him  instructions  in  logic,  all  of  whici 
iiave  since  been  given  to  the  public." 
1  Ibid,  p.  36. 


PASCAL   AS    A    PHILOSOPHIC    SKEPTIC.  123 

of  men  who  are  persuaded  of  what  they  say,  but  a  sect  of 
liars." '  Montaigne  is  especially  taken  up  and  roughly  handled. 
If  I  had  to  indicate  the  best  reply  to  the  book  of  Thoughts,  I 
would  designate  the  logic  of  Port-Royal.  To  this,  I  would  add 
the  admirable  Discours  contenant  en  abrege  les  preuves  natu- 
relles  de  ^existence  de  Dieu  et  de  Timmortalite  de  Tame?  It 
appeared  in  16YO,  shortly  after  the  Thoughts,  and  one  would 
say  that  Nicole  had  in  view  the  skeptical  arguments  of  Pascal 
when  he  wrote  the  following  lines :  "  I  am  persuaded  that 
these  natural  proofs  do  not  cease  to  be  sound.  .  .  .  There  are 
some  that  are  abstract  and  metaphysical,  and  I  do  not  see  that 
it  is  reasonable  to  take  pleasure  in  decrying  them  ;  but  there 
are  also  others  that  are  more  sensible,  more  in  conformity  with 
our  reason,  better  suited  to  the  majority  of  minds,  and  of  such 
a  nature  that  we  must  do  violence  to  ourselves  in  order  to  re- 
sist them.  .  .  .  Whatever  effort  atheists  may  make  to  efface 
the  impression  that  the  sight  of  this  great  world  forms  natu- 
rally in  all  men,  that  there  is  a  God,  the  creator  of  it,  they 
cannot  entirely  stifle  it,  so  strongly  and  deeply  is  it  rooted  in 
our  minds.  We  need  not  force  ourselves  to  yield  to  it,  but  we 
must  do  violence  to  ourselves  to  contradict  it.  ...  Reason  has 
only  to  follow  its  natural  instinct  to  persuade  itself  that  there 
is  a  God."  A  little  later,  in  1671,  in  the  first  volume  of  the 
Essais,  when  treating  of  the  weakness  of  man,  Nicole  speaks 
of  Descartes  in  terms  that  contrast  strongly  with  those  of 
Pascal  and  de  Sacy :  "  The  world  had  philosophized  during 
three  thousand  years  upon  divers  principles.  A  man  now  rises 
in  a  corner  of  the  earth  who  changes  the  entire  face  of  philos- 
ophy, and  pretends  to  show  that  all  who  have  gone  before  un- 
derstood nothing  of  the  principles  of  nature.  And  these  are 
not  idle  promises  alone ;  for  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  new- 
comer throws  more  light  upon  the  knowledge  of  natural  things 
than  all  the  rest  have  done  together."  Doubtless,  when  the 


1  La  Logique  ou  fart  de  pensei  editbn  of  1662.    Discours  swr  It  dtssei* 
it  cette  logiqut,  p.  13. 
•  This  was  afterwards  incorporated  in  the  Etsait,  t.  ii. 


124:  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC    SKEPTIC. 

headstrong  theologians  applied  Cartesianism  at  random  to  the 
explanation  of  the  holy  mysteries,  the  Eucharist  among  the 
rest,  Nicole,  like  Arnauld  and  even  Bossuet  himself,  uttered 
a  cry  of  alarm '  in  the  midst  of  his  friends ;  but  he  therefore 
remained  none  the  less  faithful  in  public  to  the  principles  01 
his  whole  life.  It  may  be  imagined  then,  that,  in  the  revision 
of  the  manuscript  of  Pascal,  he  strongly  seconded  the  advice 
of  Arnauld  to  suppress  the  arrogant  insults  everywhere  ad- 
dressed to  Descartes  and  to  natural  reason,  and  as  much  as 
possible  to  efface  the  skepticism  that  prevails  in  the  Thoughts. 
Yet,  despite  so  much  suppression,  despite  all  the  softening 
and  even  radical  change,  Nicole  was  never  pleased  with  the 
Thoughts.  As  much  as  he  admired  and  labored  to  circulate 
the  Provincial  Letters,  so  cold  did  he  remain  in  respect  to  the 
Thoughts,  interpreting  in  this  the  unanimous  sentiments  of  his 
illustrious  contemporaries.  I  have  already  made  the  observa- 
tion that  in  the  seventeenth  century  no  philosopher,  no  cele- 
brated theologian  has  praised  or  even  quoted  the  Thoughts. 
We  seek  in  vain  for  a  single  word  in  respect  to  this  book  in 
Fenelon,  Malebranche,  Bossuet, — even  in  the  immense  corre- 
spondence of  Arnauld.  As  to  Nicole,  he  concealed  with  a  bad 
grace  the  slight  value  that  he  set  on  it.  M.  de  Sevigne  having 
shown  him,  one  day,  a  letter  from  Madame  de  Lafayette,  con- 
taining this  singular  eulogy  of  the  Thoughts  :  "  It  is  a  bad  sign 
in  any  one  not  to  like  this  book"  Nicole,  timid  as  he  was,  had 
the  courage  to  brave  this  anathema  and  confess  his  opinion. 
But  first  remark  this  enthusiasm  for  the  Thoughts,  coming 
from  the  circle  of  M.  de  Larochefoucauld,  of  which  Madame 
de  Lafayette  is  here  but  the  secretary.  The  author  of  the 
Afaximes  indorses  the  author  of  the  Thoughts.  I  believe  it, 
indeed.  When  one  has  himself  advanced,  to  the  scandal  of  all 

1  Nicole,  Essais,  t.  viii,  letters  82,  83,  84.  Arnauld,  letter  of  the  18th  of 
October,  1669.  (Euvres  completes,  t.  i,  p.  670.  Bossuet,  Lettre  a  un  Dis- 
tiple  du  pere  Malebrancht.  Bossuet  was  the  one  of  the  three  who  least  suf 
Cored  himself  to  be  carried  away  by  that  very  natural  feeling  produced  in 
.he  enlightened  friends  of  a  good  cause  by  the  excesses  which  are  com- 
mitted in  its  name. 


PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC.  125 

honorable  men,  that  every  thing  in  man  may  be  reduced  tc 
self-love  and  egotism,  and  that  all  else  is  but  hypocrisy,  he 
must  certainly  congratulate  himself  on  seeing  a  work  appear 
that  comes  to  second  this  admirable  principle  by  demonstrating 
that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  ethics  or  natural  religion,  and 
that  all  law  and  virtue  are  based  only  upon  caprice  and  fashion. 
This  harmony  between  Larochefoucauld  and  Pascal  is  neither 
surprising  nor  very  edifying ;  and  in  my  opinion  it  is  over- 
whelming to  Pascal.  After  the  disapproving  silence  of  his 
equals,  nothing  more  was  wanting  than  the  interested  suffrage 
of  this  misanthropical  personage,  this  melancholy  wit,  this  dis- 
appointed and  morbid  courtier,  who  has  not  feared  to  give  his 
own  character  and  life  of  intrigue  as  a  model  for  humanity. 
The  reply  of  Nicole  to  M.  de  Sevigne  is  so  little  known,  and 
serves  so  well  our  cause,  that  we  give  it  abridged : ' 

"  After  this  rigorous  judgment  of  Madame  de  La  F.,  that  it 
is  a  bad  sign  in  those  that  do  not  like  this  book,  we  are  forced 
not  to  dare  to  express  our  sentiments,  but  to  feign  to  find  that 
admirable  which  we  do  not  undei  stand.  She  should  at  least 
have  instructed  us  more  particularly  as  to  what  we  ought  to 
admire  in  it,  and  not  have  contented  herself  with  general 
praises,  which  serve  only  to  convince  us  that  we  have  not  the 
mind  to  discover  in  it  what  she  discovers,  but  avail  nothing  to 
enable  us  to  find  it.  ...  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  have  hith- 
erto had  something  of  this  bad  sign  myself.  I  have  found 
indeed  in  it  a  great  many  stones  tolerably  well  cut  and  fit  to 
adorn  a  noble  structure,  but  the  rest  has  appeared  to  me  a 
mass  of  confused  material,  nor  could  I  see  for  what  use  it  was 
designed.  There  are  even  some  sentiments  that  do  not  appear 
to  me  to  be  quite  exact,  but  which  resemble  chance  thoughts 
written  only  to.be  examined  with  more  care.  What  is  said, 
for  example,  in  tit.  xxv,  15,  that  the  title  by  which  men  possess 
their  property  has  its  origin  only  in  imagination,  concludes 
nothing  of  what  it  is  designed  to  conclude,  namely,  the  weak 
ness  of  mankind,  and  that  we  possess  our  property  only  by  an 

1  Swow,  t.  viii,  first  part,  p.  245. 


126  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEFITC. 

imaginary  title.  .  .  What  is  said  in  the  same  passage,  No.  17 
in  respect  to  natural  principles,  appears  to  me  too  general. .  . 
He  supposes,  in  the  whole  chapter  on  amusement  or  the 
misery  of  mankind,  that  ennui  proceeds  from  what  we  see  and 
think  of  ourselves,  and  that  the  good  of  amusement  consists  in 
that  it  distracts  us  from  this  thought.  This,  perhaps,  is  more 
subtle  than  sound.  .  .  .  The  pleasure  of  the  mind  consists  in 
thinking,  and  in  thinking  vigorously  and  agreeably.  It  wearies 
as  soon  as  its  thoughts  begin  to  languish.  .  .  .  Hence  those 
who  are  much  occupied  with  themselves  may  grow  sad,  but 
not  weary.  Sadness  and  ennui  are  different  emotions.  .  .  . 
M.  Pascal  confounds  all  this.  I  could  make  several  other  ob- 
jections to  his  Thoughts,  which  sometimes  appear  to  me  a 
little  too  dogmatic,  and  thus  disturb  my  self-love,  which  does 
not  like  to  be  taught  so  arrogantly." 

And  do  you  know  the  secret  of  this  very  indifferent  liking 
of  Nicole  for  the  Thoughts  ?  It  is  because  this  book  is  the 
strongest  expression  of  Jansenism,  and  to  tell  the  truth,  Nicole 
was  scarcely  a  Jansenist.  He  had  suffered  himself  to  be  drawn 
into  this  controversy,  somewhat  through  conviction,  much 
through  friendship,  and  most  of  all  through  a  sincere  and 
lasting  antipathy  to  the  Jesuits.  He  was  much  rather  an 
adversary  of  the  Jesuits  than  a  true  disciple  of  Port-Royal. 
He  did  not  know  Saint-Cyran ;  he  had  never  felt  the  influence 
of  that  extraordinary  man  who  dared  to  face  Richelieu  himself; 
who,  from  the  depth  of  his  dungeon  at  Vincennes,  through 
a  few  billets,  governed  Port-Royal -with  sovereign  power;  who 
decided  the  destiny  of  Arnauld,  and  exercised  an  irresistible 
ascendency  ever  all  that  approached  him  ;  gentle  and  humble 
in  outward  appearance  like  his  friend,  St.  Francois  de  Sales, 
but  ardent,  extreme,  and  inflexible  at  heart.  The  only  strong 
influence  to  which  Nicole  was  ever  subjected  was  that  of 
Arnauld.  He  admired  and  loved  him,  and  willingly  placed 
his  elegant  Latinity,  and  temperate,  facile  pen,  at  the  service 
of  his  designs;  but  he  took  the  liberty  of  choosing  among 
the  doctrines  of  his  illustrious  friend.  Like  him,  he  rejected 
Jhe  lax  ethics  of  the  Jesuits,  falser  indeed  and  far  mor» 


PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   EKEPriC.  127 

dangerous  than  the  excessive  austerity  of  Port-Royal ;  he  had 
ft  horror  of  probabilism,  that  destroys  all  certainty  and  moral 
obligation ;  he  detested  most  of  all  the  intriguing  and  persecut- 
ing spirit  of  the  Society,  but  he  was  a  very  lukewarm  partisan  of 
the  Jansenist  grace.  His  historian  preserves  an  officious  silence 
in  respect  to  his  conduct  in  the  affair  of  the  formulary.  The 
truth  is  that  he  played  an  important  part  in  it,  opposing  Pascal 
and  Domat,1  and  warmly  encouraging  Arnauld  in  his  resistance 
to  the  heroic  madness  into  which  Pascal  wished  to  lead  Port- 
Royal.  From  this  moment,  therefore,  Nicole  became  sus- 
pected by  the  party.  Following  Arnauld  into  exile,  he  soon 
became  weary  of  the  life  of  an  emigre,  and  ended  by  declaring 
himself  against  special  and  in  favor  of  universal  grace.  This 
was  almost  disowning  Jansenism. 

Arnauld  was  both  more  of  a  Jansenist  and  of  a  philosopher 
than  was  Nicole,  and  he  remained  true  to  both  with  equal 
constancy  to  the  end  of  his  long  career. 

In  measuring  this  career,  already  so  great,  we  may  judge 
b}  what  Arnauld  did  of  what  he  would  have  done  under  more 
favorable  circumstances,  had  it  not  been  for  that  fatal  meeting 
which  first  turned  aside  his  destiny.  It  was  Saint-Cyran  who 
destroyed  Port-Royal  by  introducing  there  a  peculiar  doctrine ; 
it  was  Saint-Cyran  who  destroyed  Arnauld  by  turning  him 
*rom  the  highway  of  the  Galilean  Church  to  cast  him  into  a 
footpath  environed  with  precipices.  Nature  had  made  him  to 
be  the  equal  of  Bossuet,  eloquence  of  course  excepted,  yet  he 
became  only  the  -chief  of  a  party.  He  had  received  all  the 
attributes  of  genius,  simplicity,  strength,  greatness,  breadth  of 
view,  with  inexhaustible  fecundity  of  thought  and  facility  of 
expression.  Like  Bossuet,  he  was  lacking  somewhat  in  inven- 
tion ;  but,  like  him,  he  made  up  for  this  by  almost  unerring 
rectitude.  In  his  youth,  he  had  passed  through  those  profound 
studies  necessary  to  form  a  great  geometrician,  theologian, 


>  A  manuscript  of  the  Bibliofaque  Mczarine,  which  we  have  often 
quoted,  contains  various  inedited  replies  from  Nicole  to  Domat  and  to 
Pascal  himself. 


128  PASCAL   AS   A  PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

and  philosopher.1  He  even  possessed  several  of  the  qualities' 
of  a  great  writer,  rigid  order,  eminent  perspicuity ;  no  imagi- 
nation, it  is  true,  but  wit  and  soul,  often  even  elevated  senti- 
ment. But  these  many  and  rare  qualities  proved  abortive,  or 
at  least  did  not  mature  all  their  fruit  for  want  of  an  equable 
and  peaceful  culture.  Unceasingly  occupied  in  directing  a 
party,  forgetting  himself,  despising  glory,  thinking  only  ol 
truth  and  justice,  constantly  wandering  from  refuge  to  refuge 
without  knowing  where  on  the  morrow  he  would  lay  his  head, 
Arnauld  passed  his  whole  life  sword  in  hand ;  he  dissipated 
his  strength  in  a  thousand  writings  of  the  moment,  instead  o\ 
concentrating  it  upon  some  immortal  work.  He  has  strewn 
here  and  there  lines  and  even  pages  worthy  of  admira- 
tion, but  he  was  a  stranger  to  that  patient  art  of  composi- 
tion and  style,  that  assiduous  attention  to  beauty  and  form 
which  alone  can  bring  a  book  to  perfection  and  posterity. 
Arnauld  failed  to  attain  the  first  rank  in  any  thing,  controversy 
excepted.  In  this,  Bossuet  himself  was  not  his  superior.  It 
would  too  be  unjust  not  to  accord  him  a  very  elevated  place 
in  philosophy. 

Arnauld,  like  Nicole,  had  studied  philosophy  in  one  of  the 
colleges  of  the  University  of  Paris.  Entering  the  Sorbonne, 
he  took  all  his  degrees  there  in  succession  with  great  eclat. 
His  favorite  study  was  St.  Augustine,  whence  he  drew  a  fore- 
taste of  the  principles  of  Descartes  and  of  Port-Royal.  Aa 
soon  therefore  as  the  Discours  de  la  Methode,  with  the  three 
great  corresponding  works  on  physics  and  mathematics,  ap- 
peared, in  1637,  Arnauld  recognized  in  some  measure  the 
philosophy  that  he  was  seeking,  that  was  even  already  in 
his  thought.  From  1639  to  1641,  during  two  consecutive 
years,  he  gave,  at  the  Sorbonne,  in  the  college  of  Mans,  a 
regular  and  complete  course  of  philosophy.  It  is  affirmed 
that  from  this  course  arose  several  distinguished  pupils 

1  The  Elements  de  Qeometrie  of  Port-Royai  are  from  the  pen  of  Arnanl'l, 
*nd  have  served  as  the  basis  to  all  the  works  of  this  kind.  See  in  the  Vit 
f  Arnauld,  p.  93,  valuable  details  in  respect  to  these  Elements.  LeibniU 
•peaks  somewhere  of  the  rare  talent  of  Arnauld  for  mathematics. 


PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC.  12t» 

who  introduced  the  teachings  of  Arnauld  into  the  University 
of  Paris.1  But  the  surest  trace  that  remains  to  us  of  these  is 
the  too  little  known  thesis  which  he  caused  to  be  sustained  in 
1641 ;  this  contains  more  than  one  proposition  well  worthy  cf 
remark,  and  the  spirit  that  prevails  in  it  is  found  almost  the 
same  in  the  subsequent  writings  of  Arnauld.9  At  the  same 
time,  he  wrote  that  celebrated  opinion  on  the  Meditations,  in 
which  the  disciple  of  St.  Augustine  accepts  without  reserve  the 
method  and  all  the  great  principles  of  Descartes,  the  proof  of 
personal  existence  derived  from  thought,  the  demonstration 
of  the  distinction  between  soul  and  body,  and  that  of  the 
existence  of  God  by  the  idea  of  the  Infinite.  From  this  time, 
Arnauld  never  ceased  to  be,  like  Bossuet,  an  avowed  Cartesian. 
There  is  indeed  a  striking  analogy  between  the  philosophic 
opinions  of  these  two  great  men.  Both  are  Cartesians,  with- 
out prejudice  as  without  weakness;  at  the  height  of  the  perse- 

1  Preface  hintorique  of  the  tome  xxxiii.,  p.  2. — Among  these  pupils  is 
quoted  Pierre  Barbay,  afterwards  professor  of  philosophy,  whose  greatly 
mitigated  Peripateticism  serves  as  a  connecting  link  between  the  old 
Peripatetic  instructions  and  the  teachings  of  the  new  school,  that  of  Pcur- 
chot,  for  example,  in  which  Cartesianism  appears  already  and  well-nigh 
•prevails. 

1  (Euvres  <T Arnauld,  tome  xxxviii.,  p.  1.  Conclusions  philosophies. 
In  logic,  we  meet  with  a  certain  conceptualism  nearly  allied  to  nominal- 
ism, which  marvellously  explains  the  antipathy  of  Arnauld  to  Malebranche's 

heory  of  ideas.  Universals  are  to  him  but  common  notions  and  names : 
til  reality  lies  in  individuals.  In  mathematics,  Arnauld  criticises  the  ele- 
ments of  Euclid,  the  demonstrations  of  which  do  not  appear  to  him  always 
sufficiently  luminous,  thus  preluding  to  his  reflections  on  the  fourth  part 
->f  the  Logiqw  and'  to  his  Elements  de  Geomctrit.  From  this  epoch,  that 
ts  from  the  year  1(541,  he  attacks  the  Ptolemaic  system  in  astronomy,  and 

lares  assert  that  the  immobility  of  the  earth  rests  on  no  proof  either  in 
astronomy  or  physics,  and  that  authority,  not  reason  persuades  us  of  it. 
Later,  Pascal  dared  not  go  even  so  far  as  this.  In  ethics,  Epicureanism, 
Stoicism,  and  .Peripateticism  are  placed  fer  beneath  the  Platonic  ethics, 
culminating  in  Christianity.  The  liberty  of  nan  is  admitted,  but  a  few 
propositions  already  appear  with  w\iich  Janser.ism  may  harmonize.  <;  He 
who  cannot  sin  is  without  doubt  more  free  than  he  who  can  sin."  In 
physics,  the  opinion  that  extension  is  not  distinct  from  things  extended, 
that  is  the  space  of  bodies,  is  given  as  probable.  In  metaphysics,  all 
eternal  essence  other  than  God  is  a  chimera;  all  the  entities  are  but  being 

tself.     Substantial  forms  are  useless.     To  a  mind  free  from  prejudice,  it  i» 

Hot  less  evident  that  God  is,  than  that  TO  is  an  even  number. 

6° 


180  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

cntion, — let  us  speak  plainly — ,  in  the  midst  of  the  faults  of 
Cartesianism,  they  had  the  courage  to  avow  it  while  sepa- 
rating its  principles  from  the  daring  applications  that  were 
made  of  them.  Both  set  out  from  the  fixed  distinction 
between  natural  and  supernatural  truths,  and  philosophy 
appeared  to  them  as  legitimate  and  as  certain  in  the  natural 
order  as  the  Christian  faith  in  the  order  of  revealed  truths. 
They  showed  themselves  the  constant  adversaries  of  the  epi- 
cureanism of  Gassendi  and  the  skepticism  of  Montaigne  and 
Huet.  It  was  Arnauld  that  introduced  and  strove  to  bring 
Cartesianism  in  credit  at  Port-Royal.  He  was  the  author  of 
of  the  fourth  part  of  the  Logique  in  which  Descartes'  method 
prevails.  When,  in  1633,  the  Roman  censure  placed  the 
Meditations  on  the  Index,  he  was  not  checked  by  this  incredi- 
ble injustice.  In  1669,  he  expunged  from  the  Thoughts  all 
that  was  too  openly  in  favor  of  skepticism  and  Montaigne  and 
opposed  to  Descartes  and  philosophy.  In  1675,'  he  composed 
an  admirable  address  for  the  enlightenment  of  the  Parliament 
of  Paris,  then  about  to  issue  a  decree  against  the  doctrine  of 
Descartes.  Lastly,  in  1683,  in  his  great  controversy  with  Male- 
branche,  he  often  recalled  his  brilliant  but  obstinate  adversary 
to  the  sound  methods  and  principles  of  their  common  master.8 
Never  did  Jansenism  warp  philosophy  or  philosophy  alter 
Jansenism  in  the  mind  of  Arnauld.  Grace  and  reason  had 
early  struck  their  roots  so  deeply  in  it,  that  they  stood,  as  it 
were,  each  by  its  own  strength,  side  by  side,  meeting  without 
being  able  to  agree,  and  also  without  succeeding  in  destroying 
sach  other. 

Arnauld  occupied  such  a  place  in  Port-Royal  that  what  be- 
longed to  him  alone  was  naturally  extended  to  all  the  learned 
recluses.  Because  Arnauld  was  a  Cartesian,  it  was  thence  con- 
cluded that  all  these  gentlemen  were  Cartesians  also.  Thia 
conclusion  has  no  foundation.  If  Port-Royal  could  not  go  the 
length  of  the  Cartesianism  of  Arnauld,  neither  could  Arnaulo 

i  Fragments  pTittosopkiqut,  se'rie  iii,  t.  iii,  p.  7. 

»  Bee  that  excellent  volume,  Des  vraies  et  fausset  ideet. 


PASCAL    AS    A    PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC.  131 

»cduce  Port-Royal  to  Cartesianism.  It  was  in  vain  to  present 
Descartes  under  the  cloak  of  St.  Augustine :  the  philosopher 
constantly  appeared  and  terrified  them.  Arnauld  brought  over 
Nicole  and  the  Duke  de  Luynes ; '  but  all  the  rest  remained 
cold  or  hostile.  We  must  see  in  Fontaine  what  scandal  waa 
excited  in  the  holy  house  by  this  new  taste  for  philosophy.3 
Sacy  bewailed  it,  and  all  the  world  thought  with  Sacy.  For 
some  time,  they  dared  not  complain  openly.  Arnauld  possessed 
immense  authority ;  he  was  both  priest  and  doctor ;  he  had 
been  the  confessor  of  Port-Royal;  he  was  the  uncle  and 
brother  of  its  three  most  venerated  personages,  Mother  An- 
gel ique,  Mother  Agnes,  and  Mother  Angelique  de  Saint-Jean ; 
His  whole  family  in  a  manner  peopled  Port-Royal ;  he  was 
the  avowed  chief,  the  light  and  the  soul  of  the  party.  Yet 
signs  of  revolt  burst  forth  from  time  to  time.  The  Duke  de 
Liancourt,  in  every  respect  an  important  personage,  sometimes 
broke  a  lance  on  the  visor  of  the  illustrious  doctor.  Affairs 
came  to  such  a  pass  that,  about  the  year  1680,  the  resolution 
was  taken  to  make  a  final  effort  to  win  back  Arnauld  from 
philosophy.  One  of  his  most  intimate  friends,  the  theologal 
d'Aleth,  M.  du  Vaucel,  wrote  a  veritable  manifesto  entitled, 
Observations  sur  la  Philosophic  des  Descartes?  In  this,  du 
Vaucel  complained  that  Arnauld  compromised  Port-Royal  by 
giving  reason  to  think  it  was  Cartesian,  whereas  there  were  no 
Cartesians  there  but  Arnauld  and  Nicole.  He  declared  that 
instead  of  defending  Descartes  against  the  Jesuits,  they  must 
unite  with  the  Jesuits  against  Descartes.  He  pronounced  him- 
self with  strength  and  clearness  in  favor  of  the  book  that  Father 
Valois,  under  the  pseudonym  of  Delaville,  had  just  published 
igainst  Cartesianism  in  the  name  of  the  Society.  Sainte- 
Marthe,  one  of  the  most  thorough-  Jansenists,  indorsed  du 
Vaucel.  Sacy  was  written  to  at  Paris  to  procure  his  adhe- 
lion.  It  was  obtained,  but  in  terms  comporting  with  the  gen- 


*  The  translator  of  the  Meditations. 

T.  ii.,  p.  52,  seq. ;  and  further  on,  p.  132.  » 

•  Preface  historiqiu  of  tome  zxxviii  of  the  works  of  Arnau]d,  p.  16. 


132  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

tleness  and  humility  of  that  excellent  man.  He  acknowledged 
that  he  was  not  as  much  of  a  philosopher  as  his  uncle,  and 
entreated  him  to  think  less  of  philosophy  and  consecrate  his 
pen  to  piety  alone.  In  spite  of  these  concerted  efforts,  Ar- 
nauld,  like  Bossuet,  remained  faithful  to  Descartes  and  phi- 
»osophy  to  the  end. 

It  is  evident :  Arnauld  in  philosophy  does  not  represent 
Port-Royal ;  he  contradicts  it ;  he  follows  his  own  genius  and 
the  habits  of  his  whole  life.  It  is  Sacy  in  1650,  it  is  Pascal  in 
1660,  it  is  du  Vaucel  in  1680,  who  are  the  true  interpreters  of 
Port-Royal.  Pascal  was  the  first  to  comprehend  and  openly 
express  the  absolute  incompatibility  of  Jansenist  grace  with 
philosophy.  The  pious  theologal  d'Aleth,  in  repeating  what 
had  been  said  by  the  author  of  the  Thoughts,  obeyed  an  instinct 
quite  as  sure  as  genius  itself,  that  instinct  of  party  which  must 
not  be  despised  since  it  is  often  the  inmost  feeling  of  their 
principle.  The  whole  party  recognized  their  sentiments  in  du 
Vaucel  and  joined  themselves  to  him.  Arnauld  remained 
alone,  unshaken  in  his  attachment  to  philosophy;  and  the 
admiration  with  which  his  firmness  inspires  us  is  in  the  exact 
ratio  of  the  serious  opposition  which  he  daily  encountered, 
which  he  could  not  subdue,  and  which  he  resisted  during  forty 
years. 

In  conclusion,  it  is,  I  think,  fully  demonstrated  that  Port- 
Royal,  founded  on  the  double  principle  of  the  nothingness  ot 
human  nature  and  the  invincible  power  of  grace,  could  admit  nei- 
ther Cartesianism  nor  any  other  philosophy,  and  that  therefore, 
as  we  at  first  asserted,  Pascal,  a  Jansenist  and  a  consistent  Jan- 
eenist,  must  have  been  such  as  he  is  depicted  by  the  Thoughts, 
a  melancholy  Christian,  a  skeptic  of  genius,  who,  rejecting  all 
natural  reason,  all  natural  ethics,  all  natural  religion,  can  find 
a  shadow  of  certainty  and  peace  nowhere  but  in  the  faith  of  a 
peculiar  sect,  which  must  not  be  confounded  with  the  Church, 
of  that  sect  so  full  of  grandeur  and  misery,  commencing,  it  ia 
true,  in  Port-Royal  and  the  Provinciules,  but  ending  in  the 
follie§  of  Saint-Medard. 

Pascal  was  really  very  obscure  in  the  editions  of  Port-Roya 


PASCAL    AS    A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKfcPTlC.  133 

ind  Bossut.  We  have  thrown  upon  him  the  light  of  the  auto- 
graph manuscript,  and  this  light  has  revealed  the  most  power- 
ful enemy  that  philosophy  has  ever  had. 

Yes,  Pascal  was  an  enemy  to  philosophy :  she  is  too  loyal 
to  conceal  it,  and  too  sure  of  herself  to  dread  either  Pascal  or 
any  other.  Philosophy  is  established  upon  foundations  whence 
she  can  brave  alike  Port-Royal  and  the  Society  of  Jesus.  She 
expresses  in  fact  a  necessary  want  and  a  sacred  right  of  thought. 
Her  cause  is  the  great  cause  of  the  liberty  of  the  world,  reduced 
to  its  very  principle,  the  liberty  of  the  mind.  Its  strength  ia 
that  of  reason  supported  by  two  thousand  years  of  progress 
and  victory. 

It  looks  well,  indeed,  at  the  present  day,  to  treat  natural 
reason  with  arrogant  disdain.  Assuredly,  she  is  not  infallible, 
neither  is  she  convicted  of  error  or  of  impotence.  A  thousand 
time?  has  justice  been  done  to  the  frivolous  paralogism  upon 
which  rest  all  the  inconsistent  declamations,  fulminated  by 
reason  against  reason,  from  Pyrrho  and  Sextus  to  Pascal  and 
his  imitators.  But  let  us  leave  logic  and  theories  :  let  us  ad- 
here to  facts.  How  emphatically  they  contradict  the  con- 
temners  of  philosophy ! 

From  the  earliest  days  of  human  communities  to  the  coming 
of  Jesus  Christ,  while  a  privileged  nation  in  a  corner  of  the 
world  was  guarding  the  deposit  of  revealed  doctrine,  who,  I 
ask,  taught  men  under  the  dominion  of  extravagant  religions, 
and  forms  of  worship  often  monstrous  \  Who  taught  them 
that  they  had  a  soul,  and  a  free  soul,  capable  of  doing  evil,  but 
also  capable  of  doing  good  1  Who  taught  them,  in  the  face  of 
the  triumphs  of  strength,  and  the  almost  universal  oppression 
of  weakness,  that  strength  is  not  every  thing,  and  that  there 
are  invisible  but  sacred  rights,  which  the  strong  themselves 
must  respect  in  the  weak  1  From  whom  did  men  receive  these 
noble  principles :  that  it  is  more  honorable  to  keep  pledged 
faith  than  to  betray  it ;  that  there  is  dignity  in  subduing  one's 
oassions,  and  in  remaining  tempeiate  even  in  the  midst  of  per- 
mitted pleasures  ?  Who  dictated  to  them  the  great  maxims 
that  a  friend  is  another  self;  and  that  one  should  love  hi« 


134:  PASCAL   AS   A    PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC. 

friends  more  than  himself,  his  country  more  than  his  friends, 
and  humanity  more  than  his  country?  Who  disclosed  to  them 
beyond  the  limits,  and  beneath  the  veil  of  the  universe,  a  God 
concealed,  but  everywhere  present,  a  God  who  created  this 
world  with  weight  and  measure,  and  who  ceases  not  to  watch 
over  his  work,  a  God  who  made  man  because  he  was  unwilling 
to  retain  his  most  august  perfections  within  the  inaccessible 
solitude  of  his  own  being,  because  he  wished  to  transmit  and 
diffuse  his  intelligence,  and,  what  is  better,  his  justice,  and, 
what  is  better  still,  his  goodness  ?  inspired  them  with  the  firm 
and  touching  hope  that,  this  life  ended,  the  immaterial,  intelli- 
gent, and  free  soul  will  be  received  by  its  Maker  ?  Who  told 
them  that,  above  all  the  uncertainties  of  life,  there  is  one  su- 
preme certainty,  a  truth  as  sure  as  the  truths  of  geometry : 
namely,  that  in  death  as  in  life,  an  all-powerful,  all-just,  and  all- 
good  God  presides  over  the  destiny  of  his  creature,  and  that, 
beyond  the  shades  of  death,  whatever  may  happen,  all  will  be 
well,  since  all  will  be  the  work  of  infinite  justice  and  good- 
ness?1 

I  ask,  what  power  taught  all  this  to  so  many  millions  of  men 
in  the  old  world,  before  the  coming  of  Jesus  Christ,  if  not  that 
natural  enlightenment  which  is  treated  to-day  with  such 
strange  ingratitude  ?  Let  them  deny  it  in  the  face  of  these 
irrefragable  monuments  of  history,  or  let  them  confess  that  this 
natural  enlightenment  has  not  been  too  weak  to  reveal  to  us 
all  that  gives  value  to  life,  the  sure  and  necessary  truths  upon 
which  are  established  the  institutions  of  family  and  society, 
together  with  all  the  private  and  public  virtues,  and  this  through 
the  pure  ministry  of  the  still  unknown  sages  of  the  antique 
East,  and  of  the  better-known  philosophers  of  Ancient  Europe, 
admirable,  simple,  noble  men,  who,  clothed  in  no  sacerdotal 
garment,  had  no  other  mission  than  the  zeal  for  truth,  and  th« 
ove  of  their  fellow-mortals,  and  who,  to  be  called  philosophers 


1  The  texts  that  justify  these  assertions  are  numerous  and  incontestable 
Any  man  at  all  versed  in  ancient  philosophy  will  feel  them  in  some  sor 
Jirough  this  free  translation. 


PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPTIC.  135 

or  friends  of  wisdom,  suffered  persecution,  exile,  and  death, 
sometimes  on  a  throne,  but  oftener  in  chains;  an  Anaxagoras,  a 
Socrates,  a  Plato,  an  Aristotle,  an  Epictetus,  a  Marcus  Aurelius ' 

And  that  Roman  legislation,  which,  for  so  many  ages,  gave 
to  the  world  the  most  equitable  government  ever  yet  seen ; 
what  inspired  and  sustained  it?  Apparently,  again,  natural 
reason — that  reason  which  it  is  sought  to  relegate  to  an  obscure 
corner  of  our  schools,  or  even  to  banish  altogether,  so  useless 
or  mischievous  is  it  deemed ! 

Upon  what  basis  rests  the  whole  structure  of  French  society  ? 
Of  what  elements  is  it  formed — by  whose  hands  has  it  been 
raised  ?  Were  the  codes  which,  for  the  last  fifty  years,  have 
presided  over  our  public  and  private  life,  projected  and  delib- 
erated upon  in  synods,  like  the  capitularies  of  Charlemagne  ? 
No ;  they  were  the  work  of  the  Constituent  Assembly,  and  ot 
the  Council  of  State  of  the  empire.  The  elements  of  the  laws 
that  govern  us  are  the  ideas  that  have  everywhere  been  diffused 
by  philosophy — ideas  at  once  as  sound  as  generous,  which  the 
French  Revolution  did  not  create,  but  proclaimed,  and  which  she 
first  defended  with  the  sword,  then  etrgraved  upon  the  bronze 
of  our  codes,  for  the  example  and  instruction  of  the  world. 
And  in  politics,  what  is  the  avowed  principle  of  our  govern- 
ment ?  The  divine  right  of  kings  is  to-day  an  extravagance 
which  cannot  even  be  recalled  but  with  peril.  The  strength 
of  constitutional  royalty  lies  wholly  in  the  recognition  by  pub- 
lic reason,  of  a  permanent,  inviolable  power,  as  the  surest  sup- 
port of  order  and  liberty.  The  reciprocal  rights  and  duties 
which  form  the  woof,  as  it  were,  of  the  social  life,  especially 
the  great  duties  of  child  and  parent,  of  husband  and  wife, 
have  been  drawn  by  the  civil  law  from  the  simple  princi- 
ples of  honor  and  justice  :  in  its. sight,  they  rest  upon  their 
own  evidence,  the  certainty  and  sanctity  of  natural  justice. 
Like  the  civil,  the  penal  code  has  no  other  foundation.  Virtue 
merits  a  recompense  in  itself,  and  crime  deserves  a  chastise- 
ment ;  this  it  receives  in  the  torments  of  conscience,  and  also 
%s  public  instruction  in  the  presence  of  all  mankind,  in  the 
name  of  that  supreme,  armed  justice  which  is  called  the  State, 


136  PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEPI1C. 

Let  us  thus  glance  over  all  our  codes  of  law ;  \ve  meet 
everywhere  the  same  spirit ;  we  do  not  find  a  single  principle 
that  exceeds  reason,  and  natural  ethics,  and  religion. 

And  this  incontestible  characteristic  of  French  legislation 
and  society  is  not  a  novelty,  a  miracle  in  our  history ;  for  th  ia 
history  has  been  little  more  for  the  last  three  centuries  than 
the  continued  progress  of  the  secular  spirit.  Now,  remark  it 
well;  all  progress  of  secularization  is  homage  rendered  to  tlie 
power  of  natural  reason,  and  consequently  to  the  power  ol 
philosophy.  The  mere  existence  of  our  society,  such  as  time 
and  the  Revolution  have  made  it,  is  therefore  the  triumph  ot 
philosophy,  and  so  long  as  our  society  shall  endure,  philosophy 
has  nothing  to  fear  ;  for  to  rally  to  herself  all  the  minds  of  the 
age,  all  at  least  who  are  not  dreaming  of  a  return  to  the 
society  of  the  Middle  Ages,  philosophy  has  but  to  show  them 
the  sacred  talisman  of  constitutional  order  and  French  law. 

Let  us  go  still  farther  :  is  it  not  evident  to  every  impartial 
observer,  that  the  principles  of  the  French  Revolution  are  pen- 
etrating by  degrees  all  the  European  States  and  even  extending 
beyond  the  ocean  ?  '  • 

Such  is  the  simple  yet  peremptory  reply  which  we  confine 
ourselves  to  making  to  all  those  who  are  now  sheltering  them- 
selves under  the  revered  name  of  Pascal  to  revive  skepticism, 
to  decry  human  reason,  and  to  lull  us  into  an  individual  mys- 
ticism without  grandeur  or  solidity,  or  bring  us  again  under 
the  dominion  once  broken  by  our  sires. 

Is  it  said  that  we  mean  to  contest  the  salutary  authority  of 
religion?  God  forbid!  Religion  and  philosophy,  as  we  a 
thousand  times  have  shown,  are  based  upon  different  yet  not 
opposing  truths.  Each  has  a  distinct  and  legitimate  domain. 
To  declare  war  against  religion  in  the  name  of  philosophy 
would  be  great  folly,  for  philosophy  cannot  replace  religion, 
and  in  such  an  enterprise  would  display  but  her  ambition  and 
impotence.  On  the  other  side,  it  would  be  no  less  folly  to 
declare  war  against  philosophy  in  the  name  of  religion,  and  in 
order  to  attract  to  Christianity,  to  calumniate  reason,  debase 
intellect,  and  stultify  mankind.  Religion  and  philosophy  arc 


PASCAL   AS   A   PHILOSOPHIC   SKEFflC.  137 

two  equally  necessary  powers,  which,  thank  God,  can  never 
destroy  each  other,  but  which  may  be  easily  united  for  the 
peace  of  the  world  and  the  service  of  the  human  race.  The 
true  courage,  the  true  wisdom  is  to  stand  in  turn  by  the  one 
that  is  attacked  by  the  other.  We  put  the  question  to  every 
honest  man  :  which  is  now  the  assailant  ?  Evidently,  philoso- 
phy does  not  attack,  but  defends.  Hence  we  are  more  than 
ever  on  her  side ;  and,  if  we  may  be  permitted  to  say  it,  we 
have  shown  clearly  enough  in  evoking  an  adversary  like  Faa- 
cal,  that  we  are  little  disposed  to  retreat  before  others. 


PLAN  OF  THE  THOUGHTS. 


4CCOUNT  OF  A  CONVERSATION  IN  WHICH   PASCAL   EXPOSE*     ,TEIB 
PLAN  AND  MATTER  OF  HIS  WORK   ON  RELIGION.1 

[The  following  passage  is  an  extract  from  the  preface  of  th»»  first 
edition  of  the  Thoughts.  It  was  written  by  Etienne  Pe*rier,  and  is  of 
great  importance,  since  it  makes  known  how  Pascal  had  conceived  the 
plan  of  that  defence  of  Christianity,  of  which  the  Thoughts  are  but 
scattered  and  incomplete  fragments.  "It  is,"  to  use  the  expression 
of  M.  Sainte-Beuve,  "  a  luminous  abridgment,"  that  helps  us  penetrate 
the  Thoughts  more  profoundly.  See  PORT- ROYAL,  1.  iii.,  c.  xxi.,  p.  336 
d  seq.,  entitled  :  Conversation  de  Pascal. — Son  plan  ressaisi. — Preambule  el 
methode. — Opposee  d  celle  de  Descartes. — Entree  en  matiere. — L'homme  devant 
la  nature. — L'homme  en  lui-meme. — Le  moi. — L'homme  dans  la  societe. — Otk 
esl  le  droit  naturel  ? — Des  opinions  populaires. — Incertitude  universelle. — An- 
yoisse. — 2°  L'homme  en  quite  du  salut. — Les  philosophies. — Les  religion*. — La 
religion. — Lepeuple  juif  et  I'  Ecriture. — Les  miracles  etles  propheties. — Jesus- 
Christ.} 

THERE  happened  an  occasion,  ten  or  twelve  years  ago,  when 
Pascal  was  pressed,  not  to  write  what  he  had  in  his  mind  on 
this  subject  (religion),  but  to  give  some  account  of  it  viva  voce 
lie  did  it,  therefore,  in  presence  and  at  the  instance  of  severa 
very  eminent  persons  who  were  his  friends.  He  developed  to 
them  in  few  words  the  plan  of  his  whole  work ;  he  represented 


J  This  conversation  must  have  taken  place  about  1653.  Who  were  those 
friends  before  whom  Pascal  explained  himself?  What  was  the  place  of 
the  conversation  ?  The  too  discreet  prefaces  have  taken  good  care  not  to 
tell  us ;  but  certainly  the  elite  of  Port-Royal  were  there,  and  the  place  of 
meeting  was  peihaps  no  other  than  Port-Royal  of  Paris.  (Sainte-Beuve.) 


140  PLAN   OF   THE   THOUGHTS 

to  them  what  was  to  form  its  subject  and  matter ;  he  gave 
them  a  resume  of  its  arguments  and  principles,  and  explained 
to  them  the  order  and  sequence  of  things  which  he  intended 
to  treat  of  therein.  And  these  persons,  who  were  most  capable 
of  judging  of  such  things,  declare  that  they  have  never  heard 
any  thing  finer,  stronger,  more  touching,  or  more  convincing ; 
that  they  were  charmed  with  them,  and  that  what  they  saw  of 
this  project  and  this  design  in  a  discourse  of  two  or  three  hours, 
delivered  without  premeditation  or  preparation,  enabled  them 
to  judge  what  this  work  might  at  length  become,  if  it  were 
ever  executed  and  perfected  by  a  person  whose  ability  and 
capacity  they  knew ;  who  had  been  accustomed  to  bestow  so 
much  labor  on  all  his  works,  that  he  scarcely  ever  was  con- 
tented with  his  first  thoughts,  however  good  they  might  appear 
to  others,  and  who  has  often  rewritten,  eight  or  ten  times, 
pieces  that  any  other  than  he  would  find  admirable  at  first. 

After  having  shown  them  what  proofs  make  the  greatest 
impression  on  the  minds  of  men,  and  are  best  adapted  to  per- 
suade them,  he  undertook  to  show  that  the  Christian  religion 
had  as  many  marks  of  certainty  and  evidence  as  things  thai- 
are  received  in  the  world  as  most  indubitable. 

In  order  to  enter  upon  this  design,  he  began  by  a  delinea- 
tion of  man,  in  which  he  forgot  nothing  that  could  make  him 
known  both  within  and  without  himself,  even  to  the  most 
secret  movements  of  his  heart.  He  then  supposed  a  man  who, 
having  always  lived  in  general  ignorance,  and  with  indifference 
in  regard  to  all  things,  especially  in  regard  to  himself,  comes 
at  length  to  consider  himself  in  this  picture  an$  to  examine 
what  he  is.  He  is  surprised  to  discover  therein  an  infinity  of 
things  on  which  he  has  never  thought,  and  he  could  not  notice 
without  astonishment  and  wonder  all  that  Pascal  makes  him 
feel  of  his  greatness  and  his  vileness,  of  his  advantages  and  his 
weaknesses,  of  the  little  light  that  remains  to  him,  and  the 
darkness  that  surrounds  him  on  almost  every  side,  and,  in  fine, 
of  all  the  astonishing  contrarieties  that  are  found  in  his  nature. 
He  can  no  longer  remain  'n  indifference,  however  feeble  may 
i>e  his  reason,  and  however  insensible  he  may  have  been  hith- 


PLAN   OF  THE   THOUGHTS.  14:1 

arto,  he  must  wish,  after  having  thus  known  what  he  is,  to 
know  also  whence  he  comes  and  what  he  must  become. 

M.  Pascal,  having  thus  awakened  in  him  the  disposition  tc 
inform  himself  in  regard  to  a  doubt  so  important,  first  directs 
him  to  the  philosophers ;  and  after  having  unfolded  to  him  all 
that  the  greatest  philosophers  of  all  the  sects  have  said  on  the 
subject  of  man,  he  makes  him  observe  so  many  defects,  so 
many  weaknesses,  so  many  contradictions,  and  so  many  false- 
hoods in  all  that  they  have  advanced,  that  it  is  not  difficult  for 
this  man  to  judge  that  it  is  not  among  the  philosophers  that 
he  must  find  what  he  seeks. 

He  then  carries  him  over  the  whole  universe  and  through 
all  ages,  in  order  to  point  out  to  him  an  infinity  of  religions  that 
are  met  with  ;  but  he  shows  him  at  the  same  time  by  reasons 
so  strong  and  convincing  that  all  these  religions  are  only  full 
of  vanity,  follies,  errors,  aberrations,  and  extravagances,  that  in 
them  again  he  finds  nothing  that  can  satisfy  him. 

In  fine,  he  directs  his  attention  to  the  Jewish  people,  and 
points  out  in  connection  with  them  circumstances  so  extraor- 
dinary, that  he  easily  engages  his  attention.  After  having 
represented  to  him  all  that  is  singular  in  this  people,  he  espe- 
cially directs  his  attention  to  a  single  book  by  which  this  peo- 
ple is  governed,  and  which  comprises  at  once  its  history,  its 
law,  and  its  religion.  Scarcely  has  he  opened  this  book  when 
he  learns  that  the  world  is  the  work  of  a  God,  and  that  this 
same  God  has  created  man  in  his  own  image,  and  endowed  him 
with  all  the  pow.ers  of  body  and  mind  that  are  adapted  to  this 
state  of  being.  Although  he  has  nothing  yet  that  convinces 
him  of  this  truth,  it  does  not  fail  to  please  him ;  and  reason 
alone  suffices  to  discover  to  him  more  probability  in  the  sup- 
position that  a  God  is  the  author  o£  men  and  all  that  is  in  the 
universe,  than  in  all  that  these  same  men  have  imagined  by 
their  own  knowledge.  What  arrests  his  attention  at  this 
point  is  to  perceive,  by  the  delineation  of  man  that  has  been 
given  him,  that  he  is  very  far  from  possessing  all  those  advan 
tages  that  he  must  have  had  when  he  left  the  hands  of  hit 
Maker.  But  he  does  not  remain  long  in  this  doubt ;  for,  on 


14:2  PLAN   OF   THE  THOUGHTS. 

reading  further  in  this  same  book,  he  finds  that  after  man  had 
been  created  by  God  in  a  state  of  innocence  and  with  all  sorts 
of  perfections,  his  first  act  was  to  revolt  against  his  Creator, 
and  to  employ  all  the  powers  that  he  had  received  in  offending 
him. 

M.  Pascal  then  made  him  comprehend  that  this  crime  being 
he  greatest  of  all  crimes  in  all  its  circumstances,  it  had  been 
punished  not  only  in  this  first  man  who,  having  fallen  thereby 
from  his  state,  sank  at  once  into  misery,  weakness,  error,  and 
blindness,  but  also  in  all  his  descendants,  to  whom  this  same 
man  has  communicated  and  will  still  communicate  his  corrup- 
tion in  the  whole  course  of  time. 

He  shows  him  in  course  different  passages  of  this  book, 
wherein  he  has  discovered  this  truth.  He  warns  him  that 
man  is  no  longer  spoken  of  in  this  book  but  in  relation  to  this 
state  of  weakness  and  disorder ;  that  it  is  often  said  therein 
that  all  flesh  is  corrupt,  that  men  are  abandoned  to  their 
senses,  and  that  they  are  prone  to  evil  from  their  birth.  He 
shows  him  again  that  this  first  fall  is  the  source  not  only  of  all 
that  is  most  incomprehensible  in  the  nature  of  man,  but  also 
of  a  multitude  of  effects  that  are  external  to  him,  and  of  which 
the  cause  is  unknown  to  him.  In  fine,  he  represents  to  him 
man  so  well  delineated  in  the  whole  of  this  book,  that  he  no 
longer  appears  to  him  different  from  the  first  image  of  him 
that  he  has  traced. 

It  is  not  enough  to  have  made  known  to  this  man  his  state 
full  of  misery;  M.  Pascal  teaches  him  furthermore  that  he 
will  find  in  this  same  book  wherewith  to  console  himself. 
And  in  fact,  it  causes  him  to  observe  that  it  is  therein  said 
that  the  remedy  is  in  the  hands  of  God ;  that  we  must  have 
recourse  to  him  for  the  strength  that  we  lack ;  that  he  will 
have  compassion  and  even  send  a  deliverer  to  men,  who  will 
make  satisfaction  for  them  and  repair  their  impotence. 

After  having  explained  a  great  number  of  very  special 
remarks  on  the  book  of  this  people,  he  still  makes  him  con- 
sider that  it  is  the  only  book  which  has  spoken  woi'thily  oi 
the  Supreme  Being,  and  that  has  given  the  idea  of  a  true 


PLAN   OF   THE  THOUGHTS.  143 

religion.  He  makes  him  conceive  its  most  evident  marVs 
which  he  applies  to  what  this  book  has  taught ;  and  he  par. 
ticularly  directs  his  attention  to  the  fact,  that  it  makes  the 
essence  of  its  worship  consist  in  the  love  of  God  whom  i* 
adores :  which  is  a  character  wholly  peculiar  to  it,  and  con 
spicuously  distinguishes  it  from  all  other  religions,  whose  false 
hood  appears  by  the  want  of  this  essential  mark. 

Although  M.  Pascal,  after  having  conducted  so  far  this  man 
whom  he  had  proposed  to  persuade  by  insensible  degrees,  has 
not  yet  said  any  thing  to  him  that  might  convince  him  of  the 
truths  which  he  has  led  him  to  discover,  he  has  nevertheless 
put  him  in  a  disposition  to  receive  them  with  pleasure,  pro- 
vided it  could  be  shown  him  that  he  ought  to  yield  to  them, 
and  even  to  desire  with  all  his  heart  that  they  may  be  solid 
and  well  founded,  since  he  finds  in  them  advantages  so  great 
for  his  repose  and  for  the  enlightenment  of  his  doubts.  It  is 
also  the  state  in  which  every  reasonable  man  ought  to  be,  who 
has  once  fairly  entered  into  the  course  of  all  those  things  that 
M.  Pascal  has  just  represented  ;  and  there  is  reason  to  believe 
that  after  this  he  would  easily  yield  to  all  the  proofs  which  he 
successively  brought  to  confirm  the  certainty  and  evidence  of 
all  those  important  truths  of  which  he  had  spoken,  and  which 
constitute  the  basis  of  the  Christian  religion,  of  whose  tiuth 
it  was  his  design  to  persuade. 

In  order  to  say  something  of  these  proofs  in  few  words, 
after  he  had  shown  in  general  that  the  truths  in  question 
where  contained  in  a  book  of  whose  certainty  no  man  of  good 
sense  could  doubt,  he  dwelt  principally  on  the  book  of  Moses, 
wherein  these  truths  are  peculiarly  set  forth ;  and  showed  by 
a  great  number  of  indubitable  circumstances  that  it  was 
equally  impossible  for  Moses  to  have  left  a  written  account  o 
false  things,  or  for  the  people  to  whom  he  left  them  to  hav 
been  deceived  by  them,  even  though  ,Moses  had  been  capable 
of  being  an  impostor. 

He  also  spoke  of  all  the  great  miracles  recorded  in  thia 
book ;  and  as  they  are  of  immense  consequence  for  the 
religion  therein  taught,  he  proved  that  it  was  not  possible 


144  PLAN   OF   THE  THOUGHTS. 

that  they  should  not  be  true,  npt  only  by  the  authority  of  tne 
book  wherein  they  are  contained,  but  also  by  all  the  circum 
stances  that  accompany  them  and  render  them  indubitable. 

He  also  showed  in  what  manner  the  whole  law  of  Mosej 
was  figurative ;  that  all  which  had  happened  to  the  Juws  was 
only  the  type  of  the  truths  accomplished  at  the  coming  of  the 
Messiah  ;  and  that,  the  veil  which  covered  these  types  having 
been  removed,  it  was  easy  to  see  their  complete  accomplish- 
ment and  perfect  consummation  in  favor  of  those  who  have 
received  Jesus  Christ. 

M.  Pascal  undertook  in  course  to  prove  the  truth  of  religion 
by  the  prophecies ;  and  on  this  subject  he  dwelt  much  longer 
than  on  the  others.  As  he  had  labored  much  on  this  subject, 
and  had  views  in  regard  to  it  quite  peculiar  to  himself,  he  ex- 
plained them  in  a  very  intelligible  manner ;  he  showed  their 
sense  and  sequence  with  marvellous  felicity,  and  set  them  forth 
in  all  their  brilliancy  and  power. 

In  fine,  after  having  run  through  the  books  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament, and  having  made  several  convincing  observations  to 
serve  as  foundations  and  proofs  of  the  truth  of  religion,  he  un- 
dertook also  to  speak  of  the  New  Testament,  and  to  draw  hia 
proofs  of  the  truth  itself  from  the  Gospel. 

He  began  with  Jesus  Christ ;  and  although  he  had  already 
invincibly  proved  his  Messiahship  by  the  prophecies  and  all 
the  types  of  the  law,  whose  perfect  fulfilment  was  seen  in  him. 
he  still  adduced  many  proofs  drawn  from  his  person,  from  hie 
miracles,  from  his  doctrine,  and  the  circumstances  of  his  life. 

He  then  dwelt  upon  the  Apostles ;  and  in  order  to  show  the 
truth  of  the  faith  which  they  proclaimed  everywhere,  after 
having  established  that  they  could  not  be  accused  of  falsehood 
but  upon  the  supposition  that  they  were  either  deceivers  or 
themselves  deceived,  he  clearly  showed  that  both  of  these 
inppositions  were  equally  impossible. 

In  fine,  he  forgot  nothing  that  could  serve  to  establish  th 
truth  of  the  evangelical  history,  making  very  fine  remarks  on 
the  Gospel  itself,  on  the  style  of  the  Evangelists  and  their  char- 
acters, on  the  Apostles  in  particular  and  their  writings,  on  the 


PLAN   OF   THE   THOUGHTS.  145 

prodigious  number  of  miracles,  on  the  martyrs,  on  the  saints — 
in  a  word,  on  all  the  ways  whereby  the  Christian  religion  has 
been  completely  established.  And  although  he  had  not  the 
leisure,  in  a  simple  discourse,  to  treat  at  length  of  so  vast  a 
matter  as  he  designed  to  do  in  his  work,  he  nevertheless  said 
enough  to  carry  the  conviction  that  all  this  could  not  be  the 
work  of  men,  and  that  God  alone  could  have  guided  the  issue 
of  so  many  different  effects,  which  all  equally  concurred  in 
proving  in  an  irresistible  manner  the  religion  that  he  himseh 
came  to  establish  among  men. 

Such  in  substance  are  the  principal  matters  of  which  he  un- 
dertook to  speak  in  all  this  discourse,  which  he  proposed  to 
those  who  heard  him  only  as  an  abridgment  of  the  great  work 
that  he  meditated ;  and  it  is  by  means  of  one  of  those  who 
were  then  present,  that  the  little  I  have  just  reported  has  been 
since  known. 

The  author  of  the  preface,  after  having  given  the  history  of  the 
publication  of  the  Thoughts,  and  explained  some  fragments  that  may 
Beem  obscure,  adds:  "It  is  still,  it  appears  to  me,  quite  proper,  in 
order  to  undeceive  some  persons,  that  might,  perhaps,  expect  to  find 
here  geometrical  proofs  and  demonstrations  of  the  existence  of  God, 
of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  of  several  other  articles  of  Chris- 
tian faith,  to  inform  them  that  such  was  not  the  design  of  M.  Pascal. 
He  did  not  pretend  to  prove  all  these  truths  of  religior  by  such 
demonstrations  founded  on  evident  principles,  capable  of  convincing 
the  obstinacy  of  the  most  hardened,  nor  by  metaphysical  arguments 
that  often  lead  the  mind  more  astray  than  they  persuade  it.  nor  by 
the  common-places  drawn  from  different  effects  of  nature ;  but  by 
moral  proofs,  which  go  to  the  heart  rather  than  to  the  understanding  ; 
that  is,  he  would  labor  more  to  touch  and  dispose  the  heart  than  to 
convince  and  persuade  the  mind,  since  he  knew  that  the  passions  and 
the  vicious  attachments  which  corrupt  the  heart  and  the  will  are  the 
greatest  obstacles,  and  the  principal  hindrances  we  have  to  faith  ;  aiu 
that;  provided  these  obstacles  could  be  removed,  it  was  not  difficult  t( 
make  the  mind  receive  the  knowledge,  and  the  reasons  whereby  il 
might  be  convinced. 

"  One  will  be  easily  persuaded  of  all  this  in  reading  these  writings.' 
7 


THOUGHTS  OF  PASCAL 


THOUGHTS  OF  PASCAL. 


CHAPTER    I.1 
[AGAINST  THE  INDIFFERENCE  OF  THK  ATHEISTS.] 

. . .  LET  them  at  least  learn  what  the  religion  is  which  they 
oppose  before  they  oppose  it.  If  this  religion  boasted  of  hav- 
ing a  clear  vision  of  God,  and  of  possessing  him  directly,  and 
without  a  veil,  it  would  be  indeed  opposing  it  to  declare  that 
we  see  nothing  in  the  world  which  discovers  it  with  such 
evidence.  But  since  religion  says,  on  the  contrary,  that 
men  are  in  darkness,  and  far  from  God,  that  he  has  hidden 
himself  from  their  knowledge,  that  the  very  name  which 
he  gives  himself  in  the  Scriptures  is,  Deus  absconditus ; 
and,  in  fine,  as  religion  equally  labors  to  establish  these  two 
things,  that  God  has  established  perceptible  signs  in  the 
Church,  in  order  to  make  himself  known  to  those  who  seek 
him  sincerely,  and  that,  nevertheless,  he  has  so  far  concealed 
these  signs  that  he  will  be  found  only  by  those  who  seek  him 
with  all  their  heart,  what  advantage  do  the  opponents  of  reli- 
gion gain  when,  professedly  neglecting  to  search  after  the 

1  This  morceau,  which  was,  according  to  all  appearance,  to  serve  as  a 
general  preface,  is  not  found  in  the  autograph  manuscript,  but  only  in  the 
copies.  It  forms  the  first  chapter  of  the  edition  of  Port-Koyal,  where  it  in 
entitled :  Against  the  Indifference  of  the  Atheists.  We  have  thought  it  best 
to  reproduce  this  title,  which  appears  to  us  exactly  in  accordance  with  the 
thought  and  intention  of  Pascal. 


1 50  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

truth,  they  cry  out  that  nothing  discovers  it  to  them,  since  the 
very  obscurity  in  which  they  are,  and  which  they  bring  as  an 
objection  to  the  Church,  does  but  establish  one  of  the  things 
which  she  maintains,  without  affecting  the  other,  and,  far  from 
ruining,  confirms  her  doctrine  ? 

The  opponents  of  religion,  in  order  to  combat  it,  should  be 
able  to  affirm  that  they  have  used  their  utmost  endeavors  in 
seeking  it  everywhere,  and  even  in  what  the  Church  proposes 
for  instruction,  but  without  any  satisfaction.  If  they  could  say 
this,  they  would  indeed  combat  one  of  her  pretensions.  But 
I  hope  to  show  here  that  no  rational  person  can  affirm  this ; 
and  I  even  venture  to  assert  that  no  person  ever  did.  We 
know  very  well  how  those  act  who  are  in  this  spirit.  They 
think  that  they  have  made  great  efforts  to  instruct  themselves, 
when  they  have  spent  a  few  hours  in  reading  some  book  of 
Scripture,  and  have  put  a  few  questions  to  some  ecclesiastic  on 
the  truths  of  the  faith.  After  that,  they  boast  of  having  made 
fruitless  searches  in  books,  and  among  men.  But,  in  truth,  I 
cannot  help  saying  to  them,  what  I  have  often  said,  that  this 
negligence  is  insufferable.  The  question  is  not  about  the  petty 
interest  of  some  stranger,  that  it  should  be  dealt  with  in  such 
a  manner ;  it  is  about  ourselves,  and  our  all. 

The  immortality  of  the  soul  is  a  thing  which  is  of  so  much 
importance  to  us,  which  touches  us  so  deeply,  that  we  must 
have  lost  all  feeling,  if  we  are  indifferent  about  knowing 
whether  it  is  true  or  not.  All  our  actions  and  thoughts  must 
take  such  different  directions,  according  as  we  have  or  have 
not  the  hope  of  eternal  blessings,  that  it  is  impossible  to  take 
one  step  with  sense  and  judgment,  except  in  regulating  it  by 
keeping  this  point  ever  in  view  as  our  ultimate  object. 

Thus,  our  first  interest  and  our  first  duty  is  to  enlighten  our- 
selves on  this  subject,  upon  which  all  our  conduct  depends. 
And  therefore  it  is  that,  among  those  who  are  not  convinced 
of  its  truth,  I  make  an  extreme  difference  between  those  who 
nse  every  endeavor  to  instruct  themselves  in  regard  to  it,  and 
those  who  live  without  troubling  themselves  about  it,  and 
without  thinking  of  it, 


OHAPTEE   I.  151 

1  can  feel  only  compassion  for  those  who  sincerely  mourn  in 
ihis  doubt,  who  regard  it  as  the  last  of  misfortunes,  and  who, 
sparing  no  effort  to  free  themselves  from  it,  make  this  investi- 
gation their  chief  and  most  serious  occupation. 

But  those  who  pass  their  lives  without  thinking  of  this  ulti- 
mate end  of  existence,  and  who,  for  the  sole  reason  that  they 
cannot  find  in  themselves  the  lights  which  persuade  them, 
neglect  to  seek  them  elsewhere,  and  to  examine  fundamentally 
whether  this  opinion  is  one  of  those  which  the  people  receive 
through  credulous  simplicity,  or  one  of  those  which,  although 
obscure  in  themselves,  have  nevertheless  a  solid  and  impregnu, 
ble  basis,  I  regard  in  a  wholly  different  manner. 

This  negligence,  in  an  affair  wherein  the  question  is  con- 
cerning themselves,  their  eternity,  and  their  all,  irritates  me 
much  more  than  it  excites  my  pity ;  it  astonishes  and  over- 
whelms me  :  it  is  for  me  something  monstrous.  I  do  not  say 
this  through  the  pious  zeal  of  a  spiritual  devotion.  I  mean,  on 
the  contrary,  that  one  ought  to  have  this  sentiment  by  a  prin- 
ciple of  human  interest  and  by  an  interest  of  self-love :  it  is 
only  necessary  for  this  to  see  what  is  seen  by  the  least  en- 
lightened. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  have  a  very  elevated  soul  in  order  to 
comprehend  that  there  is  here  no  true  and  solid  enjoyment; 
that  all  our  pleasures  are  but  vanity ;  that  our  ills  are  infinite ; 
and  that,  in  fine,  death  which  threatens  us  every  instant  must, 
in  a  few  years,  infallibly  reduce  us  to  the  horrible  necessity  of 
eternal  annihilation  or  misery. 

There  is  nothing  more  real,  more  terrible,  than  this.  We 
may  put  as  brave  a  face  on  it  as  we  will,  this  is  the  end  that 
awaits  the  fairest  worldly  life.  Let  one  reflect  upon  this,  and 
then  let  him  say  whether  it  is  not  unquestionable  that  there  ia 
no  good  in  this  life  but  the  hope  of  another  life ;  that  we  are 
happy  only  in  proportion  as  we  attain  this  hope ;  and  that  a? 
there  remain  no  misfortunes  for  those  who  have  a  full  assur 
ance  of  eternity,  so  there  is  no  happiness  for  those  who,  in 
regard  to  it,  have  no  light. 

It  is  then,  assuredly,  a  great  evil  to  be  in  doubt  concerning 


152  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

immortality ;  but  it  is  at  least  an  indispensable  duty  to  seek, 
when  we  are  in  this  doubt ;  and,  therefore,  he  who  doubts  and 
neglects  inquiry,  is  at  once  very  unhappy  and  very  perverse 
But  if  he  is  calm  and  contented  in  his  doubt,  if  he  avows  it,  if 
he  boasts  of  it,  if  he  is  even  in  such  a  state  as  to  make  it  th 
subject  of  delight  and  vanity,  I  have  no  terms  to  characterize 
so  extravagant  a  being. 

Where  can  men  get  these  sentiments?  What  subject  of 
delight  is  found  in  expecting  nothing  but  irremediable  mis- 
eries ?  What  subject  of  vanity  is  it  to  behold  ourselves  in  the 
midst  of  impenetrable  darkness  ?  And  how  can  it  happen  that 
p  rational  man  reasons  in  this  way  ? 

"  I  know  not  who  has  put  me  in  the  world,  nor  what  the 
world  is,  nor  what  I  am  myself.  I  am  in  terrible  ignorance  of 
all  things.  I  know  not  what  my  body  is,  what  my  senses  are, 
what  my  soul  is,  and  that  very  part  of  me  which  thinks  what 
I  am  saying,  which  reflects  upon  every  thing  and  upon  itself, 
and  knows  itself  no  more  than  the  rest.  I  view  these  awful 
spaces  of  the  universe  that  surround  me,  and  I  find  myself 
fixed  to  a  corner  of  this  vast  extent,  without  knowing  where- 
fore I  have  been  placed  here  rather  than  elsewhere,  why  this 
brief  period  of  time  that  has  been  given  me  to  live  has  been 
assigned  to  me  now  rather  than  at  some  other  moment  of  the 
whole  eternity  that  has  preceded  me,  and  of  that  which  is  to 
follow.  I  see  nothing  but  infinities  on  every  side,  which  in- 
close me  like  an  atom,  and  like  a  shadow  that  appears  but  a 
moment  and  returns  no  more.  All  that  I  know  is  that  I  must 
soon  die ;  but  what  I  am  most  ignorant  of,  is  that  very  death 
which  I  am  unable  to  avoid. 

"  As  I  know  not  whence  I  came,  so  I  know  not  whither  I 
go ;  and  I  know  only  that  in  leaving  this  world  I  fall  forever 
either  into  nothingness  or  into  the  hands  of  an  angry  God, 
without  knowing  which  of  these  two  conditions  is  to  be  my 
eternal  lot.  Such  is  my  state — full  of  misery,  weakness,  ob- 
scurity. And  from  all  this  I  conclude,  that  I  ought  to  pass 
ill  the  days  of  my  life  without  thinking  of  what  is  to  happen 
to  me  hereafter.  Perhaps  I  might  find  some  enlightenment 


CHAPTER   I.  153 

id  my  doubts ;  but  I  am  unwilling  to  take  the  trouble,  or  go  a 
single  step  in  search  of  it;  and,  treating  with  contempt  those 
who  give  themselves  up  to  such  labor,  I  will  go  without  fore- 
thought and  without  fear  to  try  the  great  event,  and  will  pas- 
sively approach  death,  in  uncertainty  of  the  eternity  of  my 
future  condition." 

Who  would  desire  to  have  for  a  friend  a  man  who  discourses 
in  this  manner  ?  Who  would  select  such  a  one  for  the  con- 
fidant of  his  affairs  ?  Who  would  have  recourse  to  such  a  one 
in  his  afflictions  ?  And,  in  fine,  for  what  use  of  life  could  such 
a  man  be  destined  ? 

In  truth  it  is  the  glory  of  religion  to  have  for  its  enemies 
men  so  irrational ;  and  their  opposition  is  so  little  dangerous 
to  religion,  that  it  tends  on  the  contrary  to  the  establishment 
of  her  principal  truths.  For  the  Christian  faith  goes  mainly 
to  the  establishment  of  these  two  things :  The  corruption  of 
nature,  and  the  redemption  by  Jesus  Christ.  Now  if  these 
persons  do  not  serve  to  show  the  truth  of  redemption  by  the 
sanctity  of  their  lives,  they  at  least  admirably  serve  to  show 
the  corruption  of  nature  by  sentiments  so  unnatural. 

Nothing  is  so  important  to  man  as  his  condition  ;  nothing 
is  to  him  so  fearful  as  eternity.  It  is,  therefore,  something 
wholly  unnatural  to  find  men  indifferent  to  the  loss  of  their 
being,  and  to  the  peril  of  an  eternity  of  miseries.  They  are 
quite  different  in  regard  to  all  other  things.  They  fear  the 
merest  trifles,  anticipate  them,  feel  them  when  they  come  ;  and 
that  man  who  passes  so  many  days  and  nights  in  rage  and 
despair  on  account  of  the  loss  of  an  office,  or  some  imaginary 
offence  to  his  honor,  is  the  very  one  who  knows,  without  un- 
easiness or  emotion,  that  he  must  lose  every  thing  by  death 
It  is  something  monstrous  to  see  in  "the  same  heart,  and  at  the 
same  time,  such  sensibility  for  the  least  things,  and  such 
strange  insensibility  for  the  greatest.  It  is  an  incomprehensi 
ble  delusion,  and  a  supernatural  supineness,  that  indicates  at 
omnipotent  force  as  its  cause. 

There  must  be  a  strange  revulsion  in  the  nature  of  man,  to 
tnake  h;m  glory  in  that  state  wherein  it  seems  incredible  that 


154  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

a  single  person  should  be  found.  Yet  experience  shows  me  so 
great  a  number  of  such,  that  this  would  be  astonishing,  if  we 
knew  not  that  most  of  those  who  are  thus  involved,  counterfeit, 
and  are  not  such  in  reality.1  They  are  people  who  have  heard 
that  fine  worldly  manners  consist  in  thus  acting  the  abandoned. 
This  is  what  they  call  throwing  off  the  yoke,  and  what  they 
try  to  imitate.  But  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  make  them 
understand  how  much  they  deceive  themselves  in  thus  seeking 
esteem.  This  is  not  the  means  of  acquiring  it,  I  would  say, 
even  among  persons  of  the  world,  who  have  a  sound  judgment 
of  things,  and  know  that  the  only  way  of  gaining  esteem  is  to 
show  themselves  honest,  faithful,  judicious,  and  capable  of  use- 
fully serving  their  friends,  because  men  naturally  love  only 
what  can  be  useful  to  them.  Now,  what  advantage  is  it  to  us 
to  hear  a  man  say  that  he  has  thrown  off  the  yoke,  that  he 
does  not  believe  there  is  a  God,  who  takes  cognizance  of  his 
actions ;  that  he  regards  himself  as  the  sole  master  of  his  con- 
duct, and  that  he  expects  to  render  an  account  of  it  to  none 
but  himself?  Does  he  think  thereby  to  induce  us  to  have 
henceforth  more  confidence  in  him,  and  to  expect  from  him 
consolation,  counsel,  and  aid  in  the  various  needs  of  life  ? 
Does  he  think  to  afford  us  satisfaction,  by  telling  us  that  he 
regards  the  human  soul  only  as  a  breath  or  a  vapor,  and  that 
too,  in  a  proud  and  self-sufficient  tone  ?  Is  this,  then,  a  thing 
to  be  gayly  said  ?  Is  it  not  a  thing  to  be  said  with  sadness,  on 
the  contrary,  as  of  all  things  the  saddest  ? 

If  such  persons  thought  of  it  seriously,  they  would  see  that 
this  is  so  injudicious,  so  contrary  to  good  sense,  so  opposed 
to  integrity,  and  so  remote  in  every  way  from  that  genteel 
air  which  they  seek,  that  their  conduct  is  rather  calculated  to 


1  "  L'atheisme  estant  une  proposition  comme  desnaturee  ct  moiiBtrueuse, 
iifficile  aussi  et  malaysee  d'establir  en  1'esprit  humain,  pour  insolent  ct 
icsregle  qu'il  puisse  estro,  il  s'en  est  veu  asscz,  par  vanite,  el  par  tierte  de 
eoncevoir  des  opinions  non  vulgai.'es  et  refoniiatriees  du  moaae,  en  alU-oter 
la  profession  par  contenance ;  q:u,  s'ils  sont  assez  fols,  ne  sont  pas  assez 
forts  pour  1'avoir  plantee  en  lea.  conscience. . .  Hommes  bien  miserables  et 
•iscervellez,  qui  tasckent  d'cstre  pires  qu'ils  ne  peuvent." — Montaigne. 


CHAPTER  I.  155 

repel  than  to  corrupt  those  who  might  have  some  inclination 
to  follow  them.  And,  in  fact,  set  them  to  rendering  an  account 
of  their  sentiments,  and  giving  their  reasons  for  doubting  reli- 
gion :  they  will  say  things  so  feeble  and  so  base,  that  they  will 
persuade  you  of  the  contrary.  This  is  what  a  person  once  very 
aptly  said  to  one  of  them :  "  If  you  continue  to  discourse  in 
this  manner,  you  will  indeed  soon  convert  me."  And  he  was 
right ;  for  who  would  not  be  horrified  to  find  himself  associated 
in  his  opinions  with  persons  so  despicable  ? 

Thus,  those  who  merely  counterfeit  these  sentiments  would 
be  indeed  unfortunate  in  contradicting  their  own  nature,  in 
order  to  render  themselves  the  most  absurd  of  men.  If  they 
are  grieved  to  the  bottom  of  their  heart  at  not  having  more 
light,  let  them  not  disguise  it :  there  will  be  no  sname  in  con- 
fessing it.  The  only  shame  is  that  there  is  no  shame.  Noth- 
ing shows  more  an  extreme  weakness  of  mind  than  to  know 
not  what  is  the  unhappiness  of  a  man  without  God ;  nothing 
indicates  more  a  bad  disposition  of  heart  than  not  to  desire 
the  truth  of  eternal  promises ;  nothing  is  more  cowardly  than 
to  brave  God.  Let  them  leave  such  impieties,  then,  to  those 
who  are  so  unhappily  constituted  as  to  be  really  capable  of 
them :  let  them  be  at  least  honest  men,  if  they  cannot  be 
Christians ;  and  let  them  acknowledge,  in  fine,  that  there  are 
but  two  sorts  of  persons  who  can  be  called  rational, — either 
those  that  serve  God  with  all  their  heart,  because  they  know 
him ;  or  those  that  seek  him  with  all  their  heart,  because  they 
io  not  know  him. 

But  as  for  those  who  live  without  knowing  him  and  without 
seeking  him,  they  show  so  little  care  for  their  own  welfare, 
that  they  are  not  worthy  of  the  care  of  others ;  and  it  requires 
all  the  love. of  the  religion  which  they  despise,  not  to  despise 
them  to  such  an  extent  as  to  abandon  them  in  their  folly. 
But,  since  this  religion  obliges  us  to  regard  them  always,  as 
long  as  they  shall  be  in  this  life,  as  capable  of  receiving  the 
grace  that  may  enlighten  them,  and  to  believe  that  they  maj 
m  a  short  time  be  more  filled  with  faith  than  we  are,  and  thai 
Ve  on  the  contrary  may  fall  into  the  blindness  in  which  thej 


156  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

are,  we  must  do  for  them  what  we  would  that  they  should  do 
for  us,  if  we  were  in  their  place,  and  entreat  them  to  have  pity 
on  themselves,  and  to  make  at  least  some  endeavors  to  find 
light.  Let  them  give  to  this  work  some  of  those  hours  which 
they  employ  so  uselessly  elsewhere :  whatever  aversion  they 
may  hring  to  it,  perhaps  they  will  find  something,  or  at  least 
they  will  not  lose  much  by  it.  But  as  for  those  who  shall 
bring  to  it  a  perfect  sincerity  and  a  real  desire  to  meet  the 
truth,  I  hope  they  will  find  satisfaction  in  it,  and  be  convinced 
cf  the  divinity  of  our  religion,  by  the  proofs  which  I  have  here 
brought  together,  and  in  which  I  have  followed  very  nearly 
the  following  order.' 


1  "We  see  by  the  last  lines  that  this  fragment  was  designed  to  form  the 
preface  of  a  book  that  Pascal  meditated. 

After  the  fragment  which  constitutes  this  first  chapter,  the  manu- 
script copies  contained  what  follows,  which  is  doubtless  a  variation  of  the 
oreface : 

"  Before  entering  upon  the  proofs  of  the  Christian  religion,  I  think  it 
necsssary  to  show  the  unreasonableness  of  men  who  live  careless  of  the 
truth  of  a  thing  that  is  so  important  to  them  and  touches  them  so  nearly. 

"  Of  all  their  aberrations,  this  is  doubtless  that  which  most  convicts 
them  of  folly  and  blindness,  and  wherein  it  is  easiest  to  confound  them 
oy  the  simplest  principles  of  common-sense  and  the  sentiments  of  nature. 
Now  it  is  unquestionable  that  the  period  of  this  life  is  but  an  instant ;  tbat 
he  state  of  death  is  eternal,  whatever  may  be  its  nature ;  and  that,  thus, 
all  our  actions  and  thoughts  must  take  such  different  directions  according 
to  the  state  of  this  eternity,  that  it  is  impossible  to  take  a  step  with  sense 
and  judgment,  but  in  regulating  it  by  view  of  this  point  which  must  be 
our  ultimate  object. 

u  NctLing  is  clearer  than  this,  and  therefore,  according  to  the  principles 
of  reason,  the  conduct  of  men  is  wholly  irrational,  if  they  take  no  other 
course.  By  this  rule,  then,  let  those  be  judged  who  live  careless  of  the 
close  of  life,  who,  giving  themselves  up  to  their  inclinations  and  pleasures 
without  reflection  and  solicitu  ie,  and  as  if  they  could  annihilate  etei  nity 
by  turning  away  from  it  their  thought,  think  only  of  rendering  themselves 
\  appy  in  this  brief  moment  of  existence. 

"  Yet  this  eternity  subsists,  and  the  death  that  must  open  it  and  threat- 
ins  them  every  hour  must  soon  infallibly  place  them  in  the  teirible  neces- 
lity  of  eternal  annihilation  or  misery,  while  they  know  not  which  of  these 
c  'Yiditions  is  eternally  preparec1  for  them. 

This  doubt,  then,  is  of  terrible  consequence.  They  are  in  peril  of  an 
eusinity  of  miseries :  and  yet,  as  if  the  thing  were  not  worth  the  pains, 
Jiey  neglect  to  examine  whether  the  opinion  in  question  is  one  of  these 


CHAPTER   I.  157 

^J"  Between  us  and  hell  or  heaven,  there  is  nothing  but  life, 
which  of  all  things  is  the  frailest. 

A  man  in  a  prison,  not  knowing  whether  his  sentence  is 
passed,  having  but  an  hour  longer  to  ascertain  the  fact,  this 
hour  sufficing,  if  he  know  that  it  is  given,  to  procure  its  levo 
cation, — it  is  against  nature  that  he  should  employ  this  hou: 
not  in  ascertaining  whether  his  sentence  is  passed,  but  in  play 
ing  at  piquet.1  Thus  it  is  unnatural  that  man  ....  It  is  an 
affliction  from  the  hand  of  God. 

Thus  not  only  the  zeal  of  those  who  seek  God  proves  his 
existence,  but  the  blindness  of  those  who  seek  him  not. 

^[  I  am  satisfied  that  they  should  not  investigate  the  system 
of  Copernicus ;  but  this  ....  It  is  of  the  most  vital  importance 
to  know  whether  the  soul  is  mortal  or  immortal. 

^[  We  carelessly  run  off  a  precipice,  after  having  placed 
something  before  us  to  hinder  us  from  seeing  it. 


that  the  mass  receives  with  a  too  credulous  facility,  or  one  of  those  which, 
obscure  in  themselves,  have  a  very  solid  although  concealed  basis.  Thus, 
they  know  not  whether  there  is  truth  or  falsehood  in  the  thing,  whether 
there  is  strength  or  weakness  in  its  proofs.  They  have  the  proofs  before 
their  eyes ;  they  refuse  to  look  at  them,  and  in  this  state  of  ignorance,  they 
take  the  part  of  doing  whatever  is  necessary  to  fall  into  this  evil,  in  case  it 
exists,  to  await  a  solution  of  the  problem  by  death,  to  be  nevertheless  very 
contented  in  this  state,  to  make  a  profession  of  it,  and,  in  tine,  to  take 
pride  in  it.  Is  it  possible  to  think  seriously  of  the  importance  of  this 
matter  without  being  horrified  at  such  extravagant  conduct? 

"  Such  tranquillity,  in  such  ignorance,  is  something  monstrous,  the  ex- 
travagance and  stupidity  of  which  it  is  necessary  to  make  those  feel  who 
pass  their  lives  therein,  by  showing  them  to  themselves  in  order  to  con- 
found them  by  the  sight  of  their  own  folly.  For  these  men,  when  they 
choose  to  live  in  such  ignorance  of  what  they  are,  and  without  seeking 
enlightenment,  reason  in  the  following  manner : 

"  I  know  not,  they  say,  .  .  .  ." 

1  Port-Royal  thus  changes  the  end  of  tills  phrase  :  "  To  play  and  amuse 
himself."  The  following  phrase,  not  being  completed  in  the  autograph 
manuscript,  where  it  is  found  as  given  above,  Port-Royal  suppresses  it  and 
gives  this  in  its  place :  "  Such  is  the  state  in  which  those  persons  are 
found  whom  we  are  describing,  with  this  difference,  that  the  evils  with 
which  they  are  threatened  are  very  different  from  the  simple  loss  of  lift 
and  a  transient  punishment,  which  the  prisoner  has  to  dread  " 


158  PASCAL. — THOUGHTS. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

[3REATNESS   AND   MISERY   OF   MAN. — ASTONISHING   CONTRA  DICTIONS  OF   Hlf 
NATURE.] 

I. 

Disproportion  of  man.1 — Let  man,  then,  contemplate  entire 
nature  in  her  height  and  full  majesty;  let  him  remove  his 
view  from  the  low  objects  which  surround  him ;  let  him  regard 
that  shining  luminary  placed  as  an  eternal  lamp  to  give  light 
to  the  universe ;  let  him  consider  the  earth  as  a  point,  in  com 
parison  with  the  vast  circuit  described  by  that  star2  [sun] ;  let 
him  learn  with  wonder  that  this  vast  circuit  itself  is  but  a  very 
minute  point  when  compared  with  that  embraced  by  the  stars 
which  roll  in  the  firmament.  But  if  our  view  stops  there,  let 
the  imagination  pass  beyond :  it  will  sooner  be  wearied  with 
conceiving  than  nature  with  supplying  food  for  contemplation. 
All  this  visible  world  is  but  an  imperceptible  point  in  the  am- 
ple bosom  of  nature.1  No  idea  approaches  it.  In  vain  we 
extend  our  conceptions  beyond  imaginable  spaces :  we  bring 

1  VAR.  OF  MS. :  Incapacity. — At  the  head  of  this  paragraph,  we  read  in 
the  MS.  the  following  passage  erased  by  Pascal :  "  Behold  whither  we  are 
led  by  natural  knowledge.  If  these  things  are  not  true,  there  is  no  truth 
in  man ;  and  if  they  are,  he  finds  in  them  much  cause  for  humiliation, 
forced  to  self-abasement  in  either  case ;  and  since  he  cannot  subsist  with- 
out believing  them,  I  desire,  before  entering  upon  the  most  important  in- 
vestigations of  nature,  that  he  should  once  consider  her  seriously  and 
deliberately,  that  he  should  also  regard  himself  and  judge  whether  he  has 
any  proportion  with  her  by  the  comparison  that  he  shall  make  of  these 
'.wo  objects." 

*  VAR.  OF  MS. :  Let  the  vast  circuit  which  it  describes  make  him  regard  tkt 
tarth  as  a  point. — In  effacing  this  phrase,  says  M.  Faugere,  did  Pascal  wish 
to  express  no  opinion  on  the  systems  of  Copernicus  and  Galileo  ?    This  ia 
lertain,  and  "  that  star"  refers  to  the  sun  and  not  to  the  earth. 

•  VAR.  OF  MS. :  /*  only  an  atom  in  the  immensity.    SECOND  VAR.  :  It  onfy 
in  atom  in  tfu  amplitude. 


CHAPTER  n.  159 

but  atoms,  in  comparison  with  the  reality  of  things.  It 
is  an  infinite  sphere,  of  which  the  centre  is  everywhere,  the 
circumference  nowhere.1  In  fine,  it  is  the  greatest  discernible 
character  of  the  omnipotence  of  God,  that  our  imaginatiot 
loses  itself  in  this  thought. 

Let  man,  having  returned  to  himself,  consider  what  he  i 
compared  to  what  is ;  let  him  regard  himself  as  a  wanderer 
into  this  remote  province  of  nature ;  and  let  him,  from  this 
narrow  prison  wherein  he  finds  himself  dwelling  (I  mean  the 
universe),  learn  to  estimate  the  earth,  kingdoms,  cities,  and 
himself,  at  a  proper  value. 

What  is  man  in  the  midst  of  the  infinite  ?  But  to  show 
him  another  prodigy  equally  astonishing,  let  him  seek  in  what 
he  knows  things  the  most  minute ;  let  a  mite  exhibit  to  him 
in  the  exceeding  smallness  of  its  body,  parts  incomparably 
smaller,  limbs  with  joints,  veins  in  these  limbs,  blood  in  these 
veins,  humors  in  this  blood,  globules  in  these  humors,  gases  in 
these  globules;  let  him,  still  dividing  these  last  objects,  ex- 
haust his  powers  of  conception,  and  let  the  ultimate  object  at 
which  he  can  arrive  now  be  the  subject  of  our  discourse ;  he 
will  think,  perhaps,  that  this  is  the  minutest  atom  of  nature. 
I  will  show  him  therein  a  new  abyss.  I  will  picture  to  him 
not  only  the  visible  universe,  but  the  conceivable  immensity 
of  nature,  in  the  compass  of  this  abbreviation  of  an  atom.5 


1  This  celebrated  comparison  does  not  belong  to  Pascal.  It  is  found  in 
Rabelais,  Gerson,  Saint  Bonaventura,  and  Vincent  de  Beanvais.  M.  Havet, 
In  a  learned  note,  has  investigated  its  origin,  and  the  earliest  indication 
which  he  has  met  with  is  that  of  Vincent  de  Beauvais,  who  attributes  r 
to  Empedocles,  after  the  monk  Helinand,  a  poet  and  chronicler  of  th'j 
twelfth  century.  The  text  of  Helinand  having  been  lost,  we  are  unable  V 
iscertain  upon- what  authority  he  had  himself  attributed  this  definition  t 
Empedocles,  whose  poem  on  nature  had  been  long  lost.  But  every  thing 
indicates  that  there  was  preserved  in  the  Middle  Ages,  in  a  Latin  form, 
ft  collection  of  thoughts  of  the  philosophers  of  antiquity,  a  collection  oi 
ancient  origin,  furnishing  many  traditions  whose  source  is  no  longe? 
found. 

J  In  the  various  editions  we  read  imperceptible  atom,  instead  of  epitome  o, 
*»  atom;  and  in  this  regard,  M.  Cousin  says  in  h:s  Report,  page  126 
•  How  often  has  been  cited  with  admiratio  i  this  expression  already  so 


l60  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

Let  him  view  therein  an  infinity  of  worlds,  each  of  which  has 
its  firmament,  its  planets,  its  earth,  in  the  same  proportion  as 
the  visible  world  ;  and  on  this  earth  animals,  and  in  fine  mites, 
in  which  he  will  find  again  what  the  first  have  given  ;  and  still 
Sliding  in  the  others  the  same  thing,  without  end,  and  without 
epose,  let  him  lose  himself  in  these  wonders,  as  astonishing  in 
heir  littleness  as  the  others  in  their  magnitude ;  for  who  will 
not  marvel  that  our  body,  which  just  before  was  not  percepti- 
ble in  the  universe,  itself  imperceptible  in  the  bosom  of  the  all, 
is  now  a  colossus,  a  world,  or  rather  an  all,  in  comparison 
with  the  nothingness  at  which  it  is  impossible  to  arrive  ? 

Whoever  shall  thus  consider  himself,  will  be  frightened  At 
himself,  and  observing  himself  suspended  in  the  mass  of  matter 
allotted  to  him  by  nature,  between  these  two  abysses  of  infin- 
ity and  nothingness,  will  tremble  at  the  sight  of  these  won- 
ders ;  and  I  believe  that,  his  curiosity  being  changed  into 
admiration,  he  will  be  more  disposed  to  contemplate  them  in 
silence,  than  to  investigate  them  with  presumption. 

For,  in  fine,  what  is  man  in  the  midst  of  nature  ?  A  nothing 
in  comparison  with  the  infinite,  an  all  in  comparison  with 
nothingness  :  a  mean  between  nothing  and  all.  Infinitely  far 
from  comprehending  the  extremes,  the  end  of  things  and  their 
principle  are  for  him  inevitably  concealed  in  an  impenetrable 
secret ;  equally  incapable  of  seeing  the  nothingness  whence  he 
is  derived,  and  the  infinity  in  which  he  is  swallowed  up. 

What  can. he  do,  then,  but  perceive  some  appearance  of  the 
midst  of  things,1  in  eternal  despair  of  knowing  either  their 


fine :  '  in  the  compass  of  this  imperceptible  atom !'  What  shall  we  say  of 
this,  which  is  the  true  reading  of  Pascal :  '  in  the  compass  of  this  epitome 

f  the  abyss  ?'  " 
This  latter  reading  is  fonnd  only  in  two  copies  :  there  is  in  the  mann- 

cript  an  expression  which  has  much  more  energy,  and  especially  more 
propriety,  that  of  "  epitome  of  an  atom."  The  word  atom,  of  which  an 
error  of  the  copyist  has  made  abyss,  is  legibly  written  in  the  autograph 
manuscript. — P.  Faugerf. 

*  We  here  find  that  Sir  "William  Hamilton's  doctrine  of  the  Relatively 
Conditioned  had  been  distinctly  grasped  by  the  marvellous  intellect  of  Pas- 
cal. Sir  William  attempted  to  show  that  Aristotle  had  anticip\ted  him  in 


CHAPTER   H.  161 

principle  or  their  end  ?  All  things  have  sprung  from  nothing- 
ness, and  are  carried  onward  to  the  infinite.  Who  shall  fol- 
low this  astonishing  procession  of  things?  The  Author  oi 
these  wonders  comprehends  them ;  no  other  can. 

Through  want  of  having  contemplated  these  infinities,  meu 
are  rashly  borne  to  the  investigation  of  nature,  as  if  they  had 
some  proportion  with  it. 

It  is  a  strange  thing  that  they  have  wished  to  comprehend 
the  principles  of  things,  and  from  thence  even  to  reach  a 
knowledge  of  all,  by  a  presumption  as  infinite  as  their  object. 
For  it  is  unquestionable  that  such  a  design  cannot  be  formed 
without  a  presumption  or  capacity  infinite  like  nature. 

When  we  are  instructed,  we  comprehend  that  nature,  hav- 
ing engraved  her  image  and  that  of  her  Author  upon  all 
things,  they  almost  all  participate  in  her  double  infinity.  Thus 
we  see  that  all  the  sciences  are  infinite  in  the  extent  of  their 
researches ;  for  who  doubts  that  geometry,  for  example,  has 
an  infinity  of  infinities  of  propositions  to  exhibit  ?  They  are 
also  infinite  in  the  multitude  and  delicacy  of  their  principles ; 
for  who  does  not  see  that  those  which  are  proposed  as  the 
ultimate  are  not  self-sustaining,  and  that  they  rest  upon  others 
which,  having  still  others  for  a  support,  never  admit  an  ulti- 
mate ? 

But  we  do  with  ultimates  that  appear  to  reason  as  we  do  in 
regard  to  material  things,  wherein  we  call  that  an  indivisible 
point  beyond  which  our  senses  perceive  nothing  more,  although 
it  is  by  its  nature. infinitely  divisible. 

Of  these  two  infinites  of  science,  that  of  magnitude  is  much 
more  obvious,  and  therefore  it  has  happened  to  few  persons  to 
pretend  to  a  knowledge  of  all  things.  "  I  am  about  to  speak 
of  all  things,"  said  Dernocritus.1 


»he  thought,  although  not  in  its  explicit,  still  less  in  its  differential  state 
fient;  but  in  this  language  of  Pascal,  there  is  a  far  clearer  expression  of 
t;  an  unmistakable  declaration  that  we  can  know  only  the  conditioned 
'.milieu  des  .-hoses),  and  the  relatively  couditiont  J  (apparence  du  milieu  deg 
rlioses.) — Ed. 
1  After  this  paragraph,  we  read  in  *he  MS.  *he  following  words  erased 


163  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

But  the  infinity '  in  littleness  is  much  less  discernible.  The 
philosophers  have  much  sooner  pretended  to  arrive  at  it ;  and 
here  it  is  where  they  all  have  stumbled.  It  is  what  has  given 
place  to  these  very  common  titles,  "Principles  of  things," 
M  Principles  of  philosophy,"  and  the  like,  as  ostentatious  in 
reality,  although  not  in  appearance,  as  this  other  which  gall& 
the  eye,  De  omni  scibili. 

We  naturally  believe  ourselves  much  more  capable  of  reach- 
ing the  centre  of  things  than  of  embracing  their  circumference. 
The  visible  extent  of  the  world  obviously  surpasses  us ;  but  as 
we  surpass  little  things,  we  believe  ourselves  capable  of  possess- 
ing them ;  and  yet  it  requires  no  less  capacity  to  reach  nothing- 
ness than  to  reach  the  all.  It  requires  infinite  capacity  for 
either ;  and  it  seems  to  me  that  whoever  should  have  compre- 
hended the  ultimate  principles  of  things  might  also  arrive  at  a 
knowledge  of  the  infinite.  One  depends  upon  the  other,  and 
the  one  leads  to  the  other. 

The  extremes  touch  and  unite,  by  reason  of  their  remote 
ness  from  each  other,  and  are  found  in  God,  and  in  God  only. 

Let  us  know  then  our  range ;  we  are  something  and  not  all, 
What  we  have  of  being  deprives  us  of  the  knowledge  of  first 
principles,  which  spring  from  nothingness,  and  the  little  that 
we  have  of  being  conceals  from  us  the  view  of  the  infinite. 

Our  intellect  holds  in  the  order  of  things  intelligible  the 
game  rank  as  our  body  in  the  extent  of  nature. 

Limited  in  every  way,  this  state  which  holds  the  mean  be- 
tween two  extremes  is  found  in  all  our  powers. 

Our  senses  perceive  nothing  extreme.  Too  much  noise 
deafens  us ;  too  much  light  dazzles  us ;  too  much  distance  or 

"  But  besides  that  it  is  little  to  speak  of  these  things  simply,  without 
demonstrating  and  knowing  them,  it  is  nevertheless  impossible  to  do  it, 
the  infinite  multitude  of  things  being  so  concealed  from  us  that  all  we  can 
express  by  words  or  thoughts  is  but  an  invisible  fraction  of  them.  Hence 
it  appears  how  foolish,  vain,  and  ignorant  is  this  title  of  certain  books— 
De  omni  sci&ii." 

1  Before  these  words— but  the  infinity,  we  read  in  the  MS.  this  phrasft 
erased :  "  We  perceive  at  the  first  glance  that  arithmetic  alone  furnishei 
properties  without  number,  and  each  science  the  same." 


CHAPTER   II.  163 

too  much  proximity  impedes  vision ;  too  much  length  or  too 
Hindi  brevity  of  discourse  obscures  it;  too  much  truth  aston- 
ishes us:  I  know  those  who  cannot  comprehend  that  when 
four  are  taken  from  nothing,  nothing  remains.  First  princi- 
ples have  too  much  evidence  for  us.  Too  much  pleasure  in- 
commodes. Too  much  harmony  in  music  displeases ;  too  many 
benefits  irritate ' :  we  wish  to  have  wherewith  to  repay  the 
debt* :  Beneficia  eo  usque  Iceta  sunt  dum  videntur  exsolvi  pon.se  ; 
ubi  >itultum  an/evenere,  pro  gratia  odium  redditur. 

We  feel  neither  extreme  heat  nor  extreme  cold.  Excessiu 
qualities  are  inimical  to  us,  and  not  discernible :  we  no  longei 
feel  them,  we  suffer  them.  Too  much  youth  and  too  much 
ajre  obstruct  the  mind ;  too  much  or  too  little  instruction3.  .  .  . 

O  * 

In  fine,  extreme  things  are  for  us  as  if  they  were  not,  and  we 
are  not  in  regard  to  them  :  they  escape  us,  or  we  them. 

Such  is  our  true  state.  This  is  what  renders  us  incapable  of 
certain  knowledge  and  absolute  ignorance.  We  drift  on  a 
vast  midst  always  uncertain  and  floating,  driven  from  one  ex- 
treme towards  the  other.  Some  term,  whereat  we  think  to 
fix  ourselves  and  become  settled,  wavers  and  quits  us ;  and  if 
we  follow  it,  it  escapes  our  grasp,  slips  from  us,  and  flies  with 
an  eternal  flight.  Nothing  stops  for  us.  This  is  the  state 
natural  to  us,  and  yet  the  most  contrary  to  our  inclination  :  we 
burn  with  desire  to  find  a  firm  seat  and  an  ultimate  constant 
basis,  in  order  to  build  upon  it  a  tower  that  shall  reach  to  the 
infinite ;  but  our  whole  foundation  cracks,  and  the  earth  opens 
to  the  abysg.4 


1  VAR.  OF  MS. :  Render  us  ungrateful  (erased). 

a  After  "  the  debt,"  the  MS.  adds :  If  it  surpasses  us,  it  wounds  (erased';. 
This  is  a  very  laconic  translation  of  the  citation  from  Tacitus  which  follow  a 
(Ann.,  iv,  18). 

8  Port-Royal  terminates  the  phrase  as  follows  :  stupifie*  Aim. 

*  This  remarkable  passage  has  undergone  many  alterations  in  the  edition 
of  Port-Royal.  We  believe  we  shall  afford  the  reader  a  pleasure  by  repeat- 
ing here  the  earnest  criticism  of  M.  Cousin.  "Port-Royal,"  he  says,  "  ha> 
»poiled  this  beautiful  passage,  by  arranging  it  in  the  following  manner 
which  hitherto  has  been  very  much  admired,  and  which  can  no  longer  be 
«ndured  as  soon  as  we  know  the  true :  '  Such  is  our  true  state.  Thin  is 


164  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

Let  us  seek,  then,  no  assurance,  no  certainty.  Our  reason 
is  always  deceived  by  the  inconstancy  of  appearances ;  nothing 
can  fix  the  finite  between  the  two  infinites  that  inclose  and 
avoid  it. 

This  being  comprehended,  I  believe  we  shall  be  held  in 
repose,  each  in  the  state  wherein  nature  has  placed  him.  Thia 
mean  which  has  fallen  to  our  lot  being  always  distant  from 
the  extremes,  what  imports  it  that  man  may  have  a  little  more 
intelligence  of  things?  If  he  has,  he  understands  them  a  little 
higher.  Is  he  not  still  infinitely  far  from  the  end,  and  is  not  the 
duration  of  our  life,  though  lengthened  by  ten  years,  equally 
[far]  from  eternity  ? 

In  view  of  these  infinites,  all  finites  are  equal ;  and  I  see 
not  why  we  should  fix  the  imagination  rather  upon  one  than 
upon  the  other.  Any  comparison  that  we  make  of  ourselves 
•with  the  finite  gives  us  pain. 

If  man  studied  the  first,  he  would  see  how  incapable  he  is 
of  passing  beyond.  How  could  it  be  that  a  part  should  know 
the  whole  ?  But  he  will  aspire  perhaps  to  know  at  least  the 
parts  with  which  he  has  some  proportion.  But  the  parts  of 
the  world  have  such  a  relation  and  such  a  connection  with 


what  confines  our  knowledge  within  certain  limits  which  v>e  cannot  pass,-  in- 
capable of  knowing  every  thing  and  of  being  absolutely  ignorant  of  every 
thing  (there  is  no  question  of  total  knowledge  or  ignorance,  but  of  absolute 
ignorance  or  certain  knowledge).  We  are  on  a  vast  midst,  always  uncer- 
tain and  floating  between  ignorance  and  knowledge  (this  destroys  the  image 
commenced :  ignorance  and  knowledge  were  the  two  extremes  of  the  mean 
[midftt] ) ;  and  if  we  think  to  go  farther  (there  is  no  question  of  going  far- 
ther— farther  than  what? — but  of  attaching  ourselves  to  a  fixed  point; 
Pascal  does  not  speak  of  an  object,  but  of  a  point,  of  a  term  to  which  we 
attach  ourselves),  our  object  wavers  and  escapes  our  grasp ;  it  disappear! 
and  flies  with  an  eternal  flight:  nothing  can  arrest  it  (Pascal  says  much 
more  :  Nothing  stops  for  us).  This  is  our  natural  condition,  and  yet  the 
most  contrary  to  our  inclination.  We  burn  with  desire  to  fathom  all  things 
vthere  is  no  question  of  fathoming  all  things,  nor  of  going  farther,  etc.,  but 
of  finding  a  nrm  seai,),  and  of  building  a  tower  that  can  reach  to  the  infinite 
'for  this  it  is  necessary  first  to  find  a  firm  seat  and  an  ultimate  constun' 
oasis).  But  all  our  edifice  cracks  (not  all  our  edifice,  for  we  have  not  been 
ible  to  build  one,  having  no  constant  basis;  it  is  the  very  foundatioi 
which  we  have  laid,  that  cracks),  and  the  earth  opens  to  the  abyss.'  " 


CHAPTER  n.  165 

each  other  that  I  believe  it  impossible  to  know  the  one  -with- 
out the  other  and  the  whole. 

Man,  for  example,  is  related  to  whatever  he  knows.  He  has 
need  of  space  to  contain  him,  of  time  to  endure,  of  motion  to 
live,  of  elements  to  compose  him,  of  warmth  and  aliment  to 
nourish  him,  of  air  to  breathe.  He  sees  light,  he  feels  bodies ; 
in  fine,  every  thing  falls  under  his  alliance.1 

It  is  necessary,  then,  in  order  to  know  man,  to  know  whence 
it  comes  that  he  has  need  of  air  to  subsist ;  and  in  order  to 
know  air,  to  know  whereby  it  is  related  to  the  life  of  man,  etc. 

Flame  subsists  not  without  air :  therefore  to  know  one,  we 
must  know  the  other. 

Hence  all  things  being  caused  and  causing,  aided  and  aiding, 
mediate  and  immediate,  and  all  inter-connected2  by  a  natural 
and  imperceptible  tie  that  unites  the  remotest  and  most  diverse, 
I  hold  it  impossible3  to  know  the  parts  without  knowing  the 
whole,  any  more  than  to  know  the  whole  without  knowing 
the  particular  parts. 

And  what  completes  our  impotence  to  know  things  is  that 
they  are  simple  in  themselves,  and  that  we  are  composed  of 
two  natures  opposite  and  of  different  kinds — of  soul  and  body 
For  it  is  impossible  that  the  part  which  reasons  in  us  should 
be  other  than  spiritual ;  and  should  it  be  maintained  that  we 
are  simply  corporeal,  this  would  exclude  us  much  more  from 
the  knowledge  of  things,  nothing  being  so  inconceivable  as  the 
declaration  that  matter  knows  itself.  It  is  impossible  for  us 
to  know  how  matter  could  know  itself.4 

1  VAR.  OF  MS. :    Under  his  investigations  (erased).     SECOND  VAB.  : 
Under  his  dependence  (erased). 

2  Holding  themselves  together,  being  in  relation. 

8  VAR.  OF  MS_:  "  I  hold  it  impossible  to  know  a  single  one  of  them  with- 
out all  the  others,  that  is  purely  and  ebsolutely  impossible"  (erased).  In 
continuation  of  this  paragraph  we  £nd  the  following:  "The  eternity 
jf  thir.gs  in  themselves  or  in  God  must  still  astonish  our  brief  duration. 
The  fi\ed  i*d  constant  immobility  of  nature,  ^n]  comparison  with  the 
lontinual  change  that  takes  place  in  us,  must  produce  the  same  effect" 
Jerased). 

4  VAR.  OF  MS. :  "  What  completes  our  impotence  is  the  simplicity  ot 
things  compared  with  our  double  and  composite  state.  There  are  iuvio* 


166  PASCAL. — THOUGHTS. 

And  thus,  if  we  are  simply  material,  we  can  know  nothing 
at  all ;  and  if  we  are  composed  of  mind  and  matter,  we  can 
have  no  perfect  knowledge  of  simple  things,  whether  spiritual 
or  corporeal.1 

Hence  it  happens  that  almost  all  the  philosophers  confound 
the  ideas  of  things,  speaking  of  things  corporeal  spiritually  and 
of  things  spiritual  corporeally.  For  they  boldly  affirm  that 
bodies  tend  downward,  that  they  aspire  to  the  centre,  that  they 
shun  destruction,  that  they  abhor  a  vacuum,  that  they  have 
inclinations,  sympathies,  antipathies, — which  are  all  things 
appertaining  to  minds.  And  in  speaking  of  minds,  they  con- 
sider them  as  in  a  place,  and  attribute  to  them  movement 
from  one  place  to  another, — which  are  things  appertaining  to 
bodies. 

Instead  of  receiving  ideas  of  these  things  in  purity,  we  tinge 
them  with  our  qualities,  and  stamp  all  the  simple  things  that 
we  contemplate  [with]  our  own  composite  being. 

Who,  on  seeing  us  compose  all  things  of  mind  and  body, 
would  not  believe  that  we  have  a  clear  comprehension  of  this 
compound  ?  It  is  nevertheless  the  thing  that  we  comprehend 
the  least.  Man  is  to  himself  the  most  marvellous  object  of 
nature ;  for  he  cannot  conceive  what  body  is,  and  still  less 
what  mind  is,  and  least  of  all  how  a  body  can  be  united  with 
a  mind.  This  is  the  climax  of  his  difficulties,  and  yet  it  is  his 
own  being  :  Modus  quo  corporibus  adhceret  spiritus  comprehend*. 
ab  hominibus  non  potest ;  et  hoc  tamen  homo  est?  In  fine,  to 


cible  absurdities  to  combat  this  point;  for  it  is  as  absurd  as  impious  to 
deny  that  man  is  composed  of  two  parts  (of  different  natures),  of  soul  and 
body.  This  renders  us  impotent  to  know  all  things ;  if  one  denies  this 
composition  and  pretends  that  we  are  wholly  corporeal,  I  leave  it  to  be 
judged  how  incapable  matter  is  of  knowing  matter.  Nothing  is  more  im- 
possible than  that.  Let  us  conceive,  then,  how  this  mixture  of  mind  aud 
matter  disproportions  us:'  (erased). 

'  VAR.  OF  MS. :  "  Things  simple ;  for  how  could  we  know  matter  dis- 
tinctly, (since  our  agent,  that  acts  in  this  knowledge,  is  in  part  spiritual' 
»nd  how  could  we  clearly  know  spiritual  substances,  having  a  body  thai 
weighs  us  down  and  abases  us  towards  the  earth?"  (erased). 

»  St.  Augustine,  de  Civit.  Dei,  xxi,  10. 


CHAPTER   H.  167 

complete  the  proof  of  our  weakness,  I  will  finish  by  these  twc 
considerations.1 

n. 

I  can  easily  conceive  of  a  man  without  hands,  feet,  head,  for 
it  is  only  experience  that  teaches  us  that  the  head  is  more 
necessary  than  the  feet.  But  I  cannot  conceive  of  a  man 
without  thought, — it  would  be  a  stone  or  a  brute. 

^[  Greatness  and  Misery. — Misery  being  inferred  from 
greatness,  and  greatness  from  misery,  some  have  inferred 
misery  so  much  the  more,  as  they  have  taken  greatness  for  its 
proof;  and  others,  inferring  greatness  so  much  the  more 
strongly  as  they  have  inferred  it  from  misery  itself,  all  that  tho 
one  class  has  been  able  to  say  to  show  greatness  has  only  served 
as  an  argument  to  the  other  for  inferring  misery,  since  it  is 
being  so  much  the  more  miserable  the  greater  the  height  ia 
from  which  we  have  fallen ;  and  vice  versa.  They  oppose  each 
other  in  a  perpetual  circle ;  being  certain  that,  in  proportion 
as  men  are  enlightened,  they  find  both  greatness  and  misery 
in  man.  In  a  word,  man  knows  that  he  is  miserable  :  he  is 
therefore  miserable  since  he  is  so  ;  but  he  is  very  great,  since 
he  knows  it. 

^[  ...  If  he  exalts  himself,  I  abase  him ;  if  he  abases  him- 
self, I  exalt  him,  and  perpetually  contradict  him  till  he  com- 
prehends that  he  is  an  incomprehensible  monster. 

III. 

Men,  not  having  been  able  to  cure  death,  misery,  and  igno- 
rance, have  imagined  to  make  themselves  happy  by  not  think- 
ing of  these  things. 

1  VAB.  OF  MS. :  "  These  are  in  part  thej^uses  that  render  man  so  im 
becile  in  knowing  nature.  She  is  infinite  in  two  ways ;  he  is  finite  and 
limited.  She  endures  and  perpetually  maintains  hereelf  in  her  being ;  he 
passes  away  and  is  mortal.  Individual  things  corrupt  and  change  every 
moment :  he  sees  them  only  in  passing ;  they  have  their  principle  and  end : 
tie  conceives  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  They  are  simple,  and  he  is 
composed  of  two  different  natures ;  and  in  order  to  consummate  the  proof 
jf  our  weakness,  I  will  end  by  this  reflection  on  the  state  of  our  nature  ' 
(erased). 


168  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

IV. 

Nature,  rendering  us  always  unhappy  in  our  conditions,  OUT 
desires  figure  to  us  a  happy  condition,  because  they  join  to  the 
condition  in  which  we  are  the  pleasures  of  a  condition  in  which 
we  are  not ;  and  should  we  reach  these  pleasures,  we  shouli 
not  be  happy  on  that  account,  because  we  should  have  other 
desires  in  conformity  with  this  new  condition. 

It  is  necessary  to  particularize  this  general  proposition.  .  .  . 

V. 

Let  one  imagine  a  number  of  men  in  chains,  and  all  con- 
demned to  death,  some  of  whom,  being  beheaded  every  day  in 
the  sight  of  the  others,  those  who  remain  see  their  own  con- 
dition in  that  of  their  fellows,  and,  regarding  each  other  with 
grief,  and  without  hope,  await  their  turn  :  this  is  a  picture  of 
the  condition  of  men. 

VL 

Cromwell  was  about  to  ravage  all  Christendom ;  the  royal 
family  was  lost,  and  his  own  forever  powerful,  had  it  not  been 
for  a  grain  of  sand  that  got  into  his  ureter.  Rome  even  was 
about  to  tremble  under  him;  but  this  little  gravel  having 
got  there,  he  died,  his  family  was  abased,  peace  restored,  and 
the  king  re-established. 

vn. 

The  greatness  of  man  is  great  in  that  he  knows  himself 
miserable.  A  tree  does  not  know  itself  miserable.  It  is  then 
to  be  miserable  to  know  ourselves  miserable ;  but  it  is  to  be 
great  to  know  that  we  are  miserable.  All  these  miseries  even 
prove  man's  greatness.  They  are  miseries  of  a  great  lord 
miseries  of  a  deposed  king. 

VIII. 

The  Greatness  of  Man. — The  greatness  of  man  is  so  obvious, 
that  it  is  even  deduced  from  his  misery.  For  what  nature  i» 


CHAPTER  H.  169 

to  animals,  we  call  misery  in  man,  whereby  we  recognize  that, 
his  nature  being  now  similar  to  that  of  animals,  he  is  fallen 
from  a  better  nature,  which  was  proper  to  him  heretofore. 

For  who  finds  himself  unhappy  in  not  being  a  king,  except 
a  king  dethroned  ?  Was  Paulus  ^Emilius  unhappy  because 
be  was  no  longer  consul  ?  On  the  contrary,  every  one  thought 
him  happy  in  no  longer  being  consul,  for  it  was  not  his  condi- 
tion to  be  always  consul.  But  Perseus  was  so  unhappy  in  no 
longer  being  king,  inasmuch  as  his  permanent  state  was  that 
of  royalty,  that  men  wondered  how  he  could  endure  life. 
Who  is  unhappy  in  having  but  one  mouth  ?  and  who  would 
not  be  unhappy  in  having  but  one  eye  ?  We  are,  perhaps, 
never  afflicted  because  we  have  not  three  eyes,  but  we  should 
be  inconsolable  if  we  had  none. 


IX. 

Greatness  of  Man. — We  have  such  a  grand  idea  of  the  soul 
of  man,  that  we  cannot  endure  to  be  despised  by  it,  or  even 
not  to  be  esteemed  by  it ;  and  the  whole  felicity  of  men  con- 
sists in  this  esteem. 

The  greatest  baseness  of  man  is  his  seeking  for  glory  :  but 
even  this  is  the  greatest  indication  of  his  excellence  ;  for,  what- 
ever possession  he  may  have  on  earth,  whatever  health  and 
essential  comfort  he  may  have,  he  is  not  satisfied  without  the 
esteem  of  men.  He  esteems  the  reason  of  man  so  great,  that 
whatever  advantage  he  may  have  on  earth,  if  he  is  not  also 
advantageously  situated  in  the  reason  of  man,  he  is  not  con- 
tent. This  is  the  most  beautiful  situation  in  the  world ;  noth- 
ing can  turn  him  aside  from  this  desire,  and  it  is  the  most 
ineffaceable  quality  of  man's  heart.  . 

And  those  who  most  despise  men,  and  place  them  on  a  level 
with  the  brutes,  still  wish  to  be  admired  and  believed  by  them, 
and  contradict  themselves  by  their  own  sentiment;  their 
tature,  which  is  stronger  than  all,  more  forcibly  convincing 
them  of  man's  greatness  than  reason  convinces  them  of  hi§ 
baseness. 

8 


170  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 


Man  is  but  a  reed,  the  weakest  in  nature,  but  he  is  a  think- 
ing reed.  It  is  not  necessary  that  the  entire  universe  arm  itseli 
to  crush  him.  A  breath  of  air,  a  drop  of  water,  suffices  to  kill 
him.  But  were  the  universe  to  crush  him,  man  would  still  be 
more  noble  than  that  which  kills  him,  because  he  knows  that 
he  dies ;  and  the  universe  knows  nothing  of  the  advantage  it 
has  over  him.1 

Our  whole  dignity  consists,  then,  in  thought.  Our  eleva- 
tion must  be  derived  from  this,  not  from  space  and  duration 
which  we  cannot  fill.  Let  us  endeavor,  then,  to  think  well  • 
this  is  the  principle  of  ethics. 

XL 

It  is  dangerous  to  make  man  see  too  clearly  how  nearly 
equal  he  is  to  the  brutes,  without  showing  him  his  greatness. 
It  is  also  dangerous  to  make  him  see  too  clearly  his  greatness 
without  his  baseness.  It  is  still  more  dangerous  to  leave  him 
in  ignorance  of  both.  But  it  is  very  advantageous  to  repre- 
sent to  him  both.1 

XII. 

Contrarieties.  After  having  shown  the  baseness  and  the 
greatness  of  man : — Let  man  now  rightly  estimate  himself. 

1  Among  Pascal's  most  admired  passages,  there  is  none  more  so  than 
that  whe-ein  he  compares  man  to  a  reed,  but  to  a  thinking  reed.  Nothing 
more  complete  or  finely  wrought  out  has  escaped  his  pen.  Pascal  has  re- 
turned twice  to  this  thought ;  he  has  not  left  it  till  he  has  given  it  the  last 
degree  of  perfection.  It  is  curious  to  find  the  first  and  imperfect  sketch  of 
it  on  a  corner  of  a  leaf  of  manuscript.  Here  it  is  with  that  title  which  con- 
taius,  at  ttrst,  the  entire  thought  (MS.  p.  165) :  Thinking  reed.  "  It  is  not 
in  space  that  I  am  to  seek  my  dignity,  but  in  the  regulation  of  my  thought. 
f  should  have  no  advantage  in  possessing  lands  in  space ;  the  universe 
comprehends  me,  and  swallows  me  up  like  a  point ;  by  thought  I  compre- 
hend it." — Gounin. 

*  As  a  continuation  of  this  paragraph,,  we  read  in  the  copy:  "Man  mus* 
«ot  believe  that  he  is  equal  with  the  brutes,  nor  that  he  ia  equal  witk 
angels,  nor  mu«t  he  be  ignorant  of  either,  but  know  both." 


CHAPTER   n.  171 

Let  him  love  himself,  for  he  has  in  him  a  nature  capable  of 
good ;  but  let  him  not  love  for  this  reason  what  is  base  there- 
in. Let  him  despise  himself,  since  this  capacity  is  void ; 
but  let  him  not,  on  this  account,  despise  the  natural  capacity 
itself.  Let  him  hate  himself,  let  him  love  himself:  he  has  in 
himself  the  capacity  of  knowing  truth,  and  of  being  happy ; 
but  he  has  no  truth,  either  constant  or  satisfying. 

I  would  therefore  bring  man  to  desire  to  find  truth,  to  be 
ready,  and  free  from  passions,  to  follow  it  wherever  he  shall 
find  it,  knowing  how  much  his  knowledge  is  obscured  by  the 
passions ;  I  would  indeed  that  he  hated  in  himself  the  concu- 
piscence that  determines  him  of  itself,  in  order  that  it  should 
not  blind  him  in  making  his  choice,  and  arrest  him  when  he 
has  chosen. 

XIII. 

I  equally  blame  those  who  determine  to  praise  man,  those 
who  determine  to  blame  him,  and  those  who  determine  to 
divert  him ;  and  I  can  approve  only  those  who  seek  in  sorrow. 

^f  The  stoics  say :  Enter  into  yourselves ;  there  you  will 
find  your  repose  :  and  this  is  not  true.  Others  say :  Go  out  of 
yourselves ;  seek  happiness  in  diverting  yourselves :  and  this 
is  not  true.  Diseases  come :  happiness  is  neither  out  of  us, 
nor  in  us ;  it  is  in  God,  both  out  of,  and  in  us. 

xrv. 

Man's  nature  may  be  considered  in  two  ways  :  the  one  ac- 
cording to  his  end,  and  then  he  is  great  and  incomparable ;  the 
other  according  to  the  crowd,  as  we  judge  of  the  nature  of  a 
horse  or  a  dog,  by  the  habit'  of  observing  his  course,  et  ani- 
mum  arcendi'; 8  and  then  man  is  abject  and  vile.  •  These  are  the 
two  ways  that  make  philosophers  judge  diversely,  and  dispute 
»o  keenly.  For  one  denies  the  assumption  of  another:  one 


1  MuUitiuit  in  the  original,  for  which  Bossut  substituted  habitwb. 
1  That  is,  the  game-instinct,  in  allusion  to  the  hunting-dog. 


172  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

says,  Man  is  not  born  for  this  end,  for  all  his  actions  are  op- 
posed to  it ;  another  says,  He  wanders  from  the  end  of  his 
being  when  he  performs  these  base  actions. 

^|"  Two  things  instruct  man  in  regard  to  his  whole  nature — 
instinct  and  experience. 

XV. 

I  feel  that  I  might  not  have  been  :  for  the  me  consists  in  my 
thought ;  therefore  the  me  that  thinks  would  not  have  been,  if 
my  mother  had  been  killed  before  I  was  animated.  Therefore 
I  am  not  a  necessary  being.  Neither  am  I  eternal,  nor  infinite  ; 
but  I  see  clearly  that  there  is  in  nature  a  necessary,  eternal, 
and  infinite  being.1 


1  After  this  first  grand  sketch  of  man  placed  and  lost  like  a  point  in  the 
bosom  of  the  immensity  and  splendor  of  nature,  and  nevertheless  superior 
to  her  because  he  possesses  thought,  .  .  .  after  having  shaken  as  it  were 
at  random  this  thinking  reed,  and  after  having  seen  it  floating  on  the  bosom 
of  things,  Pascal  takes  man  in  himself,  and  lays  bare  to  him  in  his  MM 
the  natural  root  of  all  action,  which  is  a  corrupt  Tooi.—Sainte-Beuve. 


CHAPTER  m.  173 


CHAPTER   III. 

[VANITY  OF  MAN. — EFFECTS  OF  SKU-LOVE. — THE  HUMAN  MB.] 


WE  are  not  contented  with  the  life  that  we  have  in  our- 
selves, and  in  our  own  being :  we  wish  to  live,  in  the  idea  of 
others,  an  imaginary  life,  and  we  constrain  ourselves  for  this 
end  to  put  on  appearances.  We  labor  incessantly  to  adorn 
and  sustain  this  imaginary  being,  and  neglect  the  real  one. 
And  if  we  have  either  tranquillity,  or  generosity,  or  fidelity,  we 
strive  to  make  it  known,  in  order  to  attach  these  virtues  to 
this  being  of  imagination  :  we  would  sooner  cast  them  off  in 
reality  than  not  to  seem  to  have  them ;  and  we  would  willingly 
be  cowards  in  order  to  acquire  the  reputation  of  being  valiant. 
Striking  mark  of  the  nothingness  of  our  own  being, — not  to  be 
satisfied  with  the  one  without  the  other,  and  often  to  renounce 
the  one  for  the  other !  For,  whoever  would  not  die  to  preserve 
his  honor  would  be  infamous. 

*f  So  great  is  the  sweetness  of  glory,  that  one  loves  what- 
ever things  it  is  attached  to,  even  death. 

II. 

Contradiction. — Pride,  counterbalancing  all  miseries.  Either 
it  conceals  its  miseries ;  or,  if  it  discover  them,  it  glorifies  itself 
for  knowing  them. 

^[  Of  the  desire  of  being  esteemed 'by  those  with  whom  we 
r*re. — Pride  holds  us  with  a  possession  so  natural  in  the  midst 
of  our  miseries,  errors,  etc.  We  even  lose  life  with  joy,  pro- 
vided people  talk  of  it. 

m. 

Vanity  is  so  anchored  in  the  heart  of  man,  that  the  lowest 
drudge  of  the  camp,  the  street,  or  the  kitchen,  must  boast  anc 


174:  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

have  his  admirers :  and  the  philosophers  themselves  desire  tXe 
same.  And  those  who  write  controversially  wish  to  have  the 
glory  of  having  written  well ;  and  those  who  read  would  have 
the  glory  of  having  read ;  and  I  who  write  this,  have,  perhaps, 
this  desire ;  and  perhaps  those  who  shall  read  it.  ... 

IV. 

Notwithstanding  the  sight  of  all  our  miseries,  which  touch 
ns,  which  hold  us  by  the  throat,  we  have  an  instinct  that  we 
cannot  repress,  that  exalts  us. 

V. 

We  are  so  presumptuous,  that  we  would  be  known  by  the 
whole  world,  and  even  by  those  who  shall  come  when  we  shall 
be  no  more ;  and  we  are  so  vain,  that  the  esteem  of  five  or  six 
persons  who  surround  us  amuses  and  contents  us. 

VI. 

Pride. — Curiosity  is  but  vanity.  Oftenest  one  wishes  to 
know  but  to  talk  of  it.  Otherwise  one  would  not  go  to  sea,  if 
he  were  never  to  say  any  thing  about  it,  and  for  the  sole 
pleasure  of  seeing,  without  hope  of  ever  communicating  what 
he  has  seen. 

VII. 

In  the  towns  through  which  we  pass  we  do  not  care  to  be 
esteemed ;  but  when  we  are  to  remain  some  time  in  them,  we 
do  care.  How  long  a  time  is  necessary  for  this?  A  time 
proportioned  to  our  vain  and  pitiful  duration. 

VIII. 

1  The  nature  of  self-love  and  of  this  human  ME  is  to  love 
sroly  self  and  to  consider  only  self.  But  what  will  man  do  ? 
He  knows  not  how  to  prevent  this  object  that  he  loves  from 

1  This  paragraph  is  not  found  in  the  MS.  of  the  Thoughts;  most  moderr 
editors  have  nevertheless  reproduced  it  after  a  contemporaneous  copy,  t- 
cannot  be  doubted  that  it  is  Pascal's. 


CHAPTER  m.  175 

being  full  of  defects  and  miseries :  lie  wishes  to  be  groat,  and 
he  sees  himself  small ;  he  wishes  to  be  happy,  and  sees  himself 
miserable ;  he  wishes  to  be  perfect,  and  sees  himself  full  of 
imperfections ;  he  wishes  to  be  the  object  of  the  love  and 
esteem  of  men,  and  he  sees  that  his  defects  merit  only  their 
version  and  contempt.  This  embarrassment  wherein  he  finds 
nimself  produces  in  him  the  most  unjust  and  most  criminal 
passion  that  it  is  possible  to  imagine ;  for  he  conceives  a  mor- 
tal hatred  of  that  truth  which  reproves  him,  and  convinces 
him  of  his  defects.  He  desires  to  annihilate  it,  and,  not  being 
able  to  destroy  it  in  itself,  he  destroys  it,  as  far  as  he  can,  in 
his  own  conscience  and  that  of  others :  that  is,  he  does  hii 
utmost  to  conceal  his  defects,  both  from  others  and  himself, 
and  cannot  bear  that  they  should  be  shown  to  him,  or  that 
they  should  be  seen. 

It  is  doubtless  an  evil  to  be  full  of  defects ;  but  it  is  a  still 
greater  evil  to  be  full  of  them  and  to  be  unwilling  to  acknowl- 
edge them,  since  this  is  adding  to  them  the  farther  evil  of 
voluntary  illusion.  We  are  unwilling  that  others  should  de- 
ceive us ;  we  do  not  regard  it  as  just  that  they  should  wish  to 
be  esteemed  by  us  more  than  they  deserve :  it  is  equally  un- 
mst  then  that  we  should  deceive  them,  and  that  we  should 
wish  them  to  esteem  us  more  than  we  deserve. 

Thus,  when  they  manifest  only  the  imperfections  and  vices 
that  we  have  in  fact,  it  is  evident  that  they  do  us  no  wrong, 
since  they  are  not  the  cause  of  them ;  and  that  they  do  us  a 
good,  since  they  aid  us  in  delivering  ourselves  from  an  evil, 
which  is  ignorance  of  these  imperfections.  We  ought  not  to 
be  displeased  that  they  know  them,  and  that  they  despise  as, 
it  being  just  both  that  they  should  know  us  for  what  we  are, 
and  that  they  should  despise  us,  if  We  are  despicable. 

Such  are  the  sentiments  that  would  spring  from  a  heart  full 
of  equity  and  justice.  What  ought  we  to  say  then  of  ours,  see- 
ing in  it  a  wholly  contrary  disposition  ?  For  is  it  not  true  that 
we  hate  the  truth  and  those  who  tell  it  to  us,  and  that  we  love 
to  have  men  deceive  themselves  in  our  favor,  and  that  we  wish 
to  be  esteemed  by  them  as  other  than  what  we  are  in  reality ! 


176  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

And  here  is  a  proof  of  it  that  horrifies  me.  The  Catholic 
religion  does  not  oblige  us  to  discover  our  sins  indifferently 
to  everybody :  it  allows  us  to  remain  concealed  to  all  othei 
men ;  but  it  excepts  one  alone,  to  whom  it  commands  us  to 
discover  the  bottom  of  our  hearts,  and  to  show  ourselves  as  we 
are.  To  none  in  the  world  but  this  man  does  the  Church 
order  us  to  reveal  ourselves,  and  she  binds  him  to  inviolabl 
secrecy,  whereby  this  knowledge  becomes  in  him  as  though 
it  were  not.  Can  any  thing  be  imagined  more  charitable  and 
more  mild  ?  And  nevertheless  the  corruption  of  man  is  such, 
that  he  still  finds  severity  in  this  law ;  and  it  is  one  of  the 
principal  reasons  that  has  made  a  great  part  of  Europe  revolt 
against  the  Church. 

How  unjust  and  unreasonable  is  the  heart  of  man,  to  be  dis- 
pleased with  the  obligation  to  do  in  regard  to  one  man  what 
it  would  be  just,  in  some  sort,  he  should  do  in  regard  to  all 
men  !  For  is  it  just  that  we  should  deceive  them  ? 

There  are  different  degrees  in  this  aversion  to  the  truth : 
but  it  may  be  said  that  it  is  in  all  to  a  certain  extent,  since  it 
is  inseparable  from  self-love.  It  is  this  wretched  delicacy  that 
obliges  those  who  are  under  the  necessity  of  reproving  others, 
to  use  so  many  circumlocutions  and  palliating  expressions  in 
order  to  avoid  shocking  them.  It  is  necessary  that  they 
should  diminish  our  defects,  that  they  should  seem  to  excuse 
them,  that  they  should  mix  with  them  praises,  and  protesta- 
tions of  affection  and  esteem.  Even  then  this  medicine  does 
not  fail  to  be  bitter  to  self-love.  It  takes  as  little  as  it  can, 
und  always  with  disgust,  and  often  even  with  a  secret  spite 
against  those  by  whom  it  is  administered. 

Hence  it  happens  that,  if  any  one  has  an  interest  in  being 
esteemed  by  us,  he  shrinks  from  rendering  us  an  office  that 
he  knows  to  be  disagreeable  to  us ;  he  treats  us  as  we  wish  to 
be  treated  :  we  hate  the  truth,  he  conceals  it  from  us  ;  we  wish 
to  be  flattered,  he  flatters  us ;  we  lo^e  to  be  deceived,  he  de- 
ceives us. 

The  reason  why  each  degree  of  good  fortune  that  elevates 
us  in  the  world  removes  us  farther  from  truth,  is  that  men  are 


CHAPTER  m.  177 

the  more  apprehensive  of  wounding  those  whose  affection  is 
more  useful  and  whose  aversion  is  more  dangerous.  A  prince 
shall  be  the  talk  of  all* Europe,  and  he  alone  know  nothing  of 
it.  I  do  not  wonder  at  it :  to  speak  the  truth  is  useful  to  him 
to  whom  it  is  spoken,  but  disadvantageous  to  those  who  speak 
it,  because  they  make  themselves  hated.  Now,  those  who  live 
with  princes  love  their  own  interest  more  than  that  of  the 
prince  whom  they  serve ;  and  thus  they  do  not  care  to  secure 
him  an  advantage  at  their  own  expense. 

This  evil  is  doubtless  greater  and  more  common  in  the 
highest  fortunes ;  but  the  lowest  are  not  exempt  from  it,  be- 
cause there  is  always  some  interest  in  making  ourselves  es- 
teemed of  men.  Thus  human  life  is  but  a  perpetual  illusion ; 
men  do  nothing  but  mutually  deceive  and  flatter  each  other. 
No  one  speaks  of  us  in  our  presence  as  he  speaks  of  us  in  our 
absence.  The  union  that  exists  among  men  is  founded  upon 
this  mutual  deception ;  and  few  friendships  would  subsist  if 
each  one  knew  what  his  friend  says  of  him  when  he  is  absent, 
although  he  then  speaks  of  him  sincerely  and  without  passion. 

Man  is  therefore  only  dissimulation,  only  falsehood  and 
hypocrisy,  both  in  himself  and  in  regard  to  others.  He  does 
Dot  wish  that  the  truth  should  be  told  him,  he  avoids  telling  it 
to  others ;  and  all  these  dispositions,  so  far  removed  from  ju» 
tice  and  reason,  have  a  natural  root  in  his  heart. 


178  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 


CHAPTEE   IY. 

[IMAGINATION. — UNCERTAINTY  OF  HAN'S  NATUBAL  KNOWLEDGE.— CTSIOM 
PYRRHONISM. ETHICS.  ] 

Imagination. — It  is  that  deceptive  part  in  man,  that  mistress 
of  error  and  falsehood,  and  so  much  the  more  deceitful  as  she 
is  not  always  so ;  for  she  would  be  an  infallible  rule  of  truth, 
if  she  were  an  infallible  one  of  falsehood.  But  being  most  fre- 
quently false,  she  gives  no  mark  of  her  quality,  marking  with 
the  same  character  the  true  and  the  false. 

I  do  not  speak  of  fools,  I  speak  of  the  wisest;  and  it  is 
among  them  that  the  imagination  has  the  greatest  power  of 
persuading  men.  Reason  cries  out  in  vain,  she  cannot  give  to 
things  their  value. 

This  haughty  power,  the  enemy  of  reason,  which  she  de- 
lights in  controlling  and  domineering,  in  order  to  show  how 
much  influence  she  has  in  all  things,  has  established  in  man  a 
second  nature.  She  has  her  happy,  her  unhappy,  her  healthy, 
her  sick,  her  rich,  her  poor ;  she  causes  belief,  doubt,  denial  of 
reason ;  she  suspends  the  senses,  she  makes  them  feel ;  she 
has  her  fools  and  her  sages :  and  nothing  distresses  us  more 
than  to  see  that  she  fills  her  guests  with  a  satisfaction  far  more 
full  and  complete  than  reason.  The  strongly  imaginative  are 
far  more  pleased  with  themselves  than  the  prudent  ration- 
ally can  be.  They  regard  people  imperiously;  they  dispute 
with  boldness  and  confidence ;  others,  with  fear  and  diffidence  : 
and  this  gayety  of  visage  often  gives  them  the  advantage  in 
the  opinions  of  the  hearers,  so  much  favor  have  the  imagi- 
nary sages  with  judges  of  the  same  nature.  Imagination 
cannot  make  fools  wise  ;  but  she  makes  them  happy,  in  emu- 
lation with  reason,  who  can  only  make  her  friends  miserable, 
— the  one  covering  her  votaries  with  glory,  the  other  witi 
shame. 


CHAPTER   IV.  179 

Who  dispenses  reputation  ?  who  gives  respect  and  venera- 
tion to  persons,  to  works,  to  laws,  to  the  great,  except  this 
faculty  of  the  imagination  ?  All  the  riches  in  the  world  arc 
insufficient  without  its  consent. 

Would  you  not  say  that  yonder  magistrate,  whose  venera- 
ble old  age  imposes  respect  upon  a  whole  people,  is  governed 
by  a  pure  and  sublime  reason,  and  that  he  judges  of  things  by 
their  nature,  without  stopping  at  those  vain  circumstances 
which  only  wound  the  imagination  of  the  weak  ?  See  him  on 
his  way  to  church,  influenced  alike  by  devotion  and  zeal; 
the  solidity  of  his  reason  strengthened  by  the  ardor  of  Jove. 
Behold  him  ready  to  listen  with  an  exemplary  respect.  Let 
the  preacher  appear :  if  nature  has  given  him  a  rough  voice 
and  a  comic  face,  ill  shaved  by  the  barber;  if  furthermore 
he  has  by  chance  been  bespattered,  however  great  the  truths 
that  he  announces,  I  wager  that  our  senator  will  lose  his 
gravity. 

The  greatest  philosopher  in  the  world,  on  a  plank  wider 
than  necessary,1  if  there  is  a  precipice  beneath  him,  although 
his  reason  convinces  him  of  his  safety,  his  imagination  will 
prevail.  Some  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  it  without  turn- 
ing pale  and  perspiring. 

Who  does  not  know  that  the  sight  of  cats,  of  rats,  the  crush- 
ring  of  a  coal,  etc.,  unhinges  the  reason  ?  The  tone  of  voice 
imposes  on  the  wisest,  and  alters  the  effect  of  a  discourse  or  a 
poem. 

Affection  or  hatred  makes  justice  shift  face  ;  and  how  much 
more  just  does  the  advocate,  well  paid  in  advance,  find  the 
i.ause  that  he  pleads !  how  much  better  does  his  bold  gesture 
make  it  seem  to  the  judges  duped  by  this  appearance  !  Ridicu- 
lous reason,  turned  by  every  wind,  an.d  in  every  direction ! 

I  do  not  wish  to  refer  to  all  its  effects ;  I  should  refer  to 
almost  all  the  actions  of  men  who  are  influenced  by  little  else. 
For  reason  has  been  obliged  to  yield,  and  the  wisest  takes  for 


»  VAR.  or  MS. :  "  Wider  than  the  road  he  usually  occupies  in  walking" 
erased). 


180  PASCAL.  —  THOUGHTS. 

his  principles  those  that  the  imagination  of  men  has  rashly 
introduced  in  each  locality.1 

Our  magistrates  have  clearly  understood  this  mystery.  Their 
red  robes,  their  ermine,  with  which  they  swathe  themselves 
like  furry  cats,  the  palaces  where  they  sit  in  judgment,  the 
emblems  of  authority, — all  this  august  apparel  was  very  ne- 
cessary ;  and  if  physicians  had  not  had  gowns  and  mules, 
and  the  doctors  square  hats  and  robes  four  times  too  ample, 
they  never  would  have  duped  the  world,  which  cannot  resist 
such  an  authoritative  parade.  Soldiers  alone  are  not  disguised 
in  this  sort,  because,  in  fact,  their  part  is  more  essential :  they 
establish  themselves  by  force,  the  others  by  grimace. 

Thus  it  is  that  our  kings  have  not  sought  these  disguises. 
They  have  not  masked  themselves  in  extraordinary  habits  in 
order  to  appear  such;2  but  they  have  surrounded  themselves 
with  guards  and  halberds — those  armed  automatons  that  have 
hands  and  force  only  for  them,  the  trumpets  and  drums  that 
march  before  them,  and  those  legions  that  encompass  them, 
make  the  firmest  tremble.  They  have  not  only  the  habit, 
they  have  the  power.  It  would  require  a  very  unimpas- 
sioned  reason  to  regard  as  an  ordinary  man  the  Grand  Seignior 
surrounded,  in  his  superb  seraglio,  by  forty  thousand  janis- 
saries. 

If  they  had*  true  justice,  if  physicians  had  the  true  art  of 
healing,  they  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  square  hats  :  the 
majesty  of  these  sciences  would  be  sufficiently  venerable  of 
itself.  But  having  only  imaginary  sciences,  they  take  these 


1  As  a  continuation  of  this  paragraph  Pascal  had  put :  "  It  is  necessary 
V>  toil  all  the  day  for  goods  acknowledged  to  be  imaginary;  and  when 
^l«ep  has  restored  the  weary  powers  of  reason,  it  is  necessary  straightway 
o  arise  and  chase  the  shadows  and  efface  the  impressions  of  this  mistress 
of  the  world." 

*  Suck,  that  is,  Kings.     Pascal  has  several  times  repeated  this  thought ; 
he  says  again  at  page  283  of  the  MS. :  "  The  Chancellor  is  grave  and  clothed 
witli  ornaments,  for  his  post  is  false,  and  not  the  king  ;  he  has  power,  but 
nothing  to  do  with  imagination.     Judges,  physicians,  etc.,  have  nothing 
but  imagination." 

*  It  is  evident  that  magistrates  and  not  kings  are  meant. 


CHAPTER   IV.  181 

vain  instruments  that  strike  the  imagination  with  which  they 
have  to  do ;  and  thereby,  in  fact,  they  attract  respect. 

We  cannot  even  look  upon  an  advocate  in  gown  and  square 
hat,  without  a  favorable  opinion  of  his  merit. 

The  imagination  disposes  of  every  thing ;  it  makes  beauty, 
justice,  happiness,  which  is  every  thing  in  the  world.  I  should 
like  much  to  see  the  Italian  book,  of  which  I  know  nothing 
but  the  title,  which  is  alone  worth  many  books :  Delia  opinione 
regina  del  mondo.  I  indorse  it  without  knowing  it,  save  the 
evil,  if  there  is  any  in  it. 

Such  are  very  nearly  the  effects  of  this  deceptive  faculty 
which  seems  to  have  been  given  us  expressly  to  lead  us  into 
necessary  error.  We  have  many  other  principles  pertaining 
to  it. 

Old  impressions  are  not  the  only  ones  capable  of  leading  us 
astray :  the  charms  of  novelty  have  the  same  power.  Hence 
arise  all  the  disputes  of  men,  who  reproach  each  other  eithtv 
with  following  false  impressions  from  infancy,  or  with  rashly 
running  after  new  ones.  Who  holds  the  just  mean  ?  Let  him 
appear,  and  let  him  prove  it.  There  is  no  principle,  however 
natural  it  may  be,  even  from  infancy,  that  could  not  be  made 
to  pass  for  a  false  impression,  either  of  instruction,  or  of  the 
senses.  Because,  it  is  said,  you  have  supposed  from  infancy 
that  a  chest  is  empty  when  you  see  nothing  in  it,  you  have 
supposed  a  vacuum  possible ;  it  is  an  illusion  of  your  senses, 
strengthened  by  custom,  which  science  must  correct.  And 
others  say  :  Because  you  have  been  told  in  the  schools  that 
there  is  no  vacuum,  your  common-sense  has  been  corrupted, 
which  so  clearly  comprehended  it  before  this  false  impression, 
which  must  be  corrected  by  recurring  to  your  primary  nature. 
Which,  then,  has  deceived  ?  the  senses  or  instruction? 

We  have  another  principle  of  error, — maladies.  They  spoil 
for  us  the  judgment  and  the  senses,  and  if  great  diseases  sensi- 
bly change  us,  I  doubt  not  that  small  ones  make  an  impression 
proportioned  to  their  magnitude.1 

1  "  Et  ne  fault  pas  doubter,  encores  que  nous  ^e  le  sentions  pas,  que  ri 


182  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

Our  own  interest,  again,  is  a  marvellous  instrument  for  pat- 
ting out  our  eyes  agreeably.  It  is  not  permitted  to  the  most 
equitable  of  men  to  be  a  judge  in  his  ow n  cause  :  I  know  men 
who,  in  order  not  to  fell  into  this  self-love,  have  been  the 
most  unjust  by  a  contrary  bias.  The  surest  means  of  losing  a 
really  just  cause  was  to  get  it  recommended  to  them  by  their 
near  relatives.  Justice  and  truth  are  two  points  so  subtile,  that 
our  instruments  are  too  blunt  to  touch  them  with  precision. 
If  they  are  rightly  aimed,  they  crush  the  point,  and,  also  striking 
the  surrounding  surface,  hit  the  false  more  than  the  true. 

II. 

The  most  important  thing  in  life  is  the  choice  of  an  occupa- 
tion :  chance  decides  it.  Custom  makes  masons,  soldiers,  tilers. 
That  is  an  excellent  tiler,  men  say ;  and,  speaking  of  soldiers : 
They  are  indeed  fools,  they  say.  And  others,  on  the  contrary : 
There  is  nothing  great  but  war ;  the  rest  of  men  are  contempt- 
ible. By  dint  of  hearing  these  occupations  praised  in  infancy, 
and  all  others  contemned,  a  choice  is  made ;  for,  naturally,  we 
love  virtue,  and  hate  folly.  These  words  influence  us :  one 
errs  only  in  the  application  of  them.  So  great  is  the  force  of 
custom,  that  of  those  whom  nature  has  made  only  men,  arc 
made  all  conditions  of  men ;  for  the  inhabitants  of  some  coun- 
tries are  all  masons,  of  others  all  soldiers,  etc.  Unquestionably 
nature  is  not  so  uniform.  It  is  custom,  then,  that  does  this, 
for  she  constrains  nature;  and  sometimes  nature  surmounts 
her,  and  retains  man  in  his  instinct,  in  spite  of  all  custom,  good 
or  bad.1 

III. 

Our  imagination  so  magnifies  the  present  time,  by  continu- 
ally reflecting  upon  it,  and  so  diminishes  eternity,  by  not  re- 

ia  fiebvre  continue  peult  atterrer  nostre  ame  que  la  tierce  n'y  apport* 
quelque  alteration  selon  sa  mesure  et  proportion." — Jtfoi.taign<:. 

1  As  a  continuation  of  this  paragraph  we  read  in  the  MS. :  "  Men  natu- 
-ally  tilers,  and  of  all  vocations  except  in-door  ones."  Although  thu 
phrase  is  not  erased,  we  think  it  ought  to  be  separated  from  the  text,  ui 
«ocount  of  its  obscurity. 


CHAPTER  rv.  183 

fleeting  upon  it,  that  we  make  a  nothingness  of  eter.ity,  and 
an  eternity  of  nothingness,  and  all  this  has  its  roots  so  vital  in 
us,  that  our  reason  cannot  defend  us  from  it,  and  that  .... 

IV. 

...  On  what  will  he  [man]  found  the  economy  of  the  world 
which  he  wishes  to  govern  ?  Will  it  be  on  the  caprice  of  each 
individual  ?  What  confusion !  Will  it  be  on  justice  ?  He  ia 
ignorant  of  it. 

Certainly  if  he  knew  it,  he  would  not  have  established  this 
maxim,  the  most  general  of  all  that  prevail  among  men,  that 
each  follow  the  customs  of  his  country;1  the  splendor  of  true 
justice  would  have  subjected  all  peoples,  and  legislators  would 
not  have  taken  as  a  model,  instead  of  this  constant  justice,  the 
fancies  and  caprices  of  Persians  and  Germans.  We  should  see 
it  planted  in  all  the  States  of  the  world  and  in  all  times,  in- 
stead of  which  we  see  scarcely  any  thing  just  or  unjust  that 
does  not  change  quality  in  changing  climate.  Three  degrees 
of  higher  latitude  overturn  all  jurisprudence.  A  meridian  de- 
cides the  truth ;  fundamental  laws  change  in  a  few  years ; 
right  has  its  epochs.  The  entrance  of  Saturn  into  the  constel- 
lation of  Leo  marks  for  us  the  origin  of  such  a  crime.  Pitia- 
ble justice,  bounded  by  a  river!8  Truth  this  side  the  Pyr- 
enees, error  that  side. 

1  "  La  droicture  et  la  Justice,  si  1'homme  en  cognoissoit  qui  eust  corps  et 
veritable  essence,  il  ne  s'attacheroit  pas  a  la  condition  des  coustumes  de 
cette  contree  on  de  celle  la." — Montaigne. 

3  VAK.  OF  MS. :  "  Which  the  crossing  of  a  river  makes  a  crime."  The 
idea  is  taken  from  Montaigne,  who  says:  "  Quelle  verite  est  ce  que  ees 
montaignes  bornent,  mensonge  an  monde  qni  se  tient  an  dela?"  The 
whole  of  this  passage  has  evidently  been  inspired  by  the  author  of  the  Es- 
tays.  "  Montaigne,"  says  Sainte-Beuve,  "  may  be  studied  in  Pascal.  H 
was  for  him  at  certain  hours  the  fox  of  the  Lacedemonian  youth,  the  fox 
concealed  beneath  the  robe.  Pascal  was  often  seized,  bitten,  and  devoured 
by  him.  In  vain  ho  crushes  him,  rejects  him ;  the  sly  old  fox  always  re- 
turns. He  is  disturbed  by  him,  cites  him,  sometimes  transcribes  him  ic 
the  tissue  of  his  own  Though*.?,  of  which  his  friends  were  unaware  in  the!/ 
edition:  phrases  of  Montaigne's  have  been  \efi  as  being  Pascal's."* 


*  Or  at  least  we  have  the  thought  more  briefly  stated  by  Pascal  —Sainte-Sewe* 


184  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

They  confess  that  justice  is  not  in  these  customs,  but  that  it 
resides  in  natural  laws,  known  in  every  country.  Certainly 
they  would  maintain  it  obstinately,  if  the  temerity  of  chance 
that  has  sown  human  laws  had  encountered  at  least  one  that 
was  universal ;  but  such  is  the  ridiculous  pass,  that  the  caprice 
of  men  has  so  well  diversified  itself,  that  there  is  none. 

Theft,  incest,  infanticide,  parricide,  all  have  had  their  place 
among  virtuous  actions.  Can  any  thing  be  more  ridiculous 
than  that  a  man  has  a  right  to  kill  me  because  he  dwells  the 
other  side  of  the  water,  and  because  his  prince  has  a  quarrel 
with  mine,  although  I  have  none  with  him  ? 

There  are,  doubtless,  natural  laws ;  but  this  fine  corrupted 
reason  has  corrupted  every  thing :  Nihil  amplius  nostrum  est  ; 
quod  nostrum  dicimus,  artis  est. — Ex  senatus  consultis  et  ple- 
biscites crimina  exercentur. —  Ut  olim  vitiis,  sic  nunc  legibus 
laboramus. 

From  this  confusion  it  arises  that  one  says  that  the  essence 
of  justice  is  the  authority  of  the  legislator ;  another,  the  con- 
venience of  the  sovereign ;  another,  present  custom,  and  this 
is  the  safest:  nothing,  if  we  follow  reason  alone,  is  just  in 
itself;  every  thing  gives  way  with  time.  Custom  makes  all 
eqxiity,  for  the  sole  reason  that  it  is  received ;  it  is  the  mystic 
foundation  of  its  authority.  Whoever  traces  it  back  to  its 
principle  annihilates  it.  Nothing  is  so  faulty  as  those  laws 
that  redress  faults;  whoever  obeys  them  because  they  are  just, 
obeys  the  justice  that  he  imagines,  but  not  the  essence  of  the 
.aw :  it  is  wholly  collected  in  itself ;  it  is  law,  and  nothing 
more.  Whoever  will  examine  its  principle  will  find  it  so  weak 
and  frivolous,  that,  if  he  has  not  been  accustomed  to  contem- 
plate the  prodigies  of  the  human  imagination,  he  will  wonder 
Low  an  age  can  have  acquired  for  it  so  much  pomp  and  rever- 
ence. The  art  of  revolutionizing,  overturning  States,  is  to  un- 
dermine established  customs,  by  going  back  to  their  origin,  in 
order  to  mark  their  want  of  justice.  We  must  recur,  it  is  said, 
V>  the  fundamental  and  primitive  laws  of  the  State,  which  at 
unjust  custom  has  abolished.  It  is  a  game  where  you  are  sure  to 
lose  every  thing ;  nothing  will  be  just  at  this  rate.  Neverthelesa 


CHAPTER   IT.  185 

people  lend  a  willing  ear  to  such  discourses.  They  throw  off 
the  yoke  as  soon  as  they  perceive  it ;  and  the  great  profit  by 
it  to  ruin  them  and .  these  curious  examiners  of  received  cus- 
toms. But,  by  an  opposite  error,  men  sometimes  think  they 
are  able  to  do  with  justice  whatever  is  not  without  precedent. 
This  is  why  the  wisest  of  legislators  said  that,  for  the  good  of 
men,  it  is  often  necessary  to  deceive  them ; '  and  another,2  very 
politic :  Quum  veritatem  qua  liberetur  ignoret,  expedit  quod 
fallatur.  It  is  not  necessary  that  he  feel  the  truth  of  the 
usurpation  ;  it  was  formerly  introduced  without  reason,  and 
has  become  reasonable ;  it  is  necessary  to  make  it  regarded  as 
authentic,  eternal,  and  to  conceal  its  commencement,  if  we  do 
not  wish  it  soon  to  come  to  an  end. 

V. 

The  mind  of  the  supreme  judge  of  the  world8  is  not  so  in- 
dependent as  not  to  be  liable  to  be  disturbed  by  the  least  uproar 
that  is  made  about  him.  It  does  not  need  the  report  of  a  can- 
non 1 «)  disturb  his  thoughts  :  the  creaking  of  a  vane  or  pulley  is 
quite  enough.4  Do  not  wonder  that  he  reasons  ill  just  now ; 
a  fly  is  buzzing  in  his  ear :  it  is  enough  to  render  him  incapa- 
ble of  sound  judgment.  If  you  are  desirous  that  he  should 
find  the  truth,  drive  away  that  insect,  which  suspends  his  rea- 
soning powers,  and  frets  that  mighty  mind  which  governs 
cities  and  kingdoms.  Here  is  a  pretty  god,  indeed !  0  ridico- 
losissimo  eroe  ! 


1  "  Platon  triacte  ce  mystere  d'un  ieu  assez  descouvert ....  II  diet  tout 
destrousscement,  en  sa  Republique  ;  Quo  pour  le  prount  des  hoinmes,  il  est 
Houuent  beaoiug  de  les  piper." — Montaigne. 

2  Varro,  cited  by  Saint  Augustine,  Dt  Civ.  Dei,  iv,  27.      Here  is  th« 
tntire  phrase:  "  Prasclara  religio,  quo  cnnfuyiat  Uberandus  infirmiu,  et  qvi/m 
veritatem,  etc. — A  fine  religion  for  a  sick  man  to  go  to  in  search  of  hia 
health,  and  that  while  he  demands  a  truth  that  will  cure  him,  is  told 
that  it  is  to  his  advantage  to  be  deceived!" — Havet. 

3  VAR.  OF  MS. :  "  The  sovereign  intelligence  of  this  monarch  of  the  uni- 
verse" (erased). 

*  "  Ce  ne  sont  pas  seulement . . .  les  grands  accidents  qui  reuversent  nos  • 
lee  moirdre*  choses  dt.  o.)nde  le  touraevirent." — 


186  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

VI. 

Montaigne  is  wrong1  in  declaring  that  custom  ought  to  be 
followed  simply  because  it  is  custom,  and  not  because  it  is  rea- 
sonable or  just;  but  the  people  follow  it  for  the  sole  reason 
that  they  believe  it  just:  otherwise,  they  would  not  follow  it, 
although  it  were  custom ;  for  men  wish  to  be  subject  only  to 
reason  or  justice.  Custom,  were  not  this  the  case,  would  pasa 
for  tyranny ;  but  the  empire  of  reason  and  justice  is  not  more 
tyrannical  than  that  of  pleasure  :  these  are  principles  natural 
to  man. 

It  would  be  good,  then,  that  we  should  obey  the  laws  and 
customs,  because  they  are  laws ;  that  we  should  know  that 
there  is  none  true  and  just  to  be  introduced ;  that  we  know 
nothing  of  them,  and  that  thus  it  is  only  necessary  to  follow 
the  received ;  by  this  means,  we  would  never  quit  them.  But 
the  people  are  not  susceptible  of  this  doctrine ;  and  thus,  as 
they  suppose  the  truth  may  be  found,  and  that  it  is  in  laws  and 
customs,  they  have  faith  in  them,  and  take  their  antiquity  as 
a  proof  of  their  truth,  and  not  simply  of  their  authority  with- 
out truth.  Thus  they  obey  them  ;  but  they  are  liable  to  revolt 
as  soon  as  they  are  shown  that  laws  and  customs  are  worth 


i  "Is  wrong"  is  the  text  of  the  MS.  Montaigne,  who  is  very  incon- 
sistent, continually  wavers  in  his  skepticism,  and  he  says  sometimes  that 
custom  is  right,  and  that  this  is  why  we  follow  it.  Pascal  rectifies  Mon- 
taigne here ;  he  reproaches  him  for  this  concession,  and  maintains  that 
the  force  of  custom  springs  from  itself,  that  is,  from  the  mere  weakness  of 
man.  We  have  seen  that  Arnauld  cites  this  thought,  or  some  other  of  the 
same  kind,  as  an  example  of  those  that  require  to  be  modified,  and  are 
indtfensibie  ;  we  have  also  seen  Marguerite  PeYier  submitting  to  her  brother 
the  Abb6  Perier,  the  difficulties  provoked  by  this  passage,  as  well  as  the 
new  reading  proposed  by  Arnauld :  "  Montaigne  is  not  wrong  when  lt«  says 
that  custom  ought  to  be  followed  because  it  is  custom,  etc.,  provided  it  i* 
understood,  of  things  not  opposed  to  natural  and  divine  right.  It  is  true 
that,  etc...."  Bossut  again  modifies  the  reading  of  Port-Royal  (lr', 
part,  ix,  43) .  "  Montaigne  is  right :  custom  ought  to  be  followed,  because 
it  is  custom,  and  because  it  is  found  established,  without  examinina 
whether  it  is  reasonable  or  not;  it  being  always  understood  that  it  is  no 
wntrary  to  natural  or  divine  right." — Cousin, 


CHAPTER  IV.  187 

nothing ;  as  all  may  be  shown  to  be,  by  regarding  them  on  a 
certain  side. 

*]"  Injustice. — It  is  dangerous  to  tell  the  people  that  laws 
are  not  just ;  for  they  obey  only  for  the  reason  that  they  think 
them  just.  Hence  they  must  be  told  at  the  same  time  that 
they  must  obey  them  because  they  are  laws,  as  they  must  obey 
superiors,  not  because  they  are  just,  but  because  they  are  supe- 
riors. All  sedition  is  prevented,  then,  if  we  can  make  this 
understood,  and  it  is,  properly  speakiftg,  the  definition  of 
justice. 

vn. 

There  is  a  universal  and  essential  difference  between  ac- 
tions of  will  and  all  others. 

Will  is  one  of  the  principal  organs  of  belief;  not  that  it 
forms  belief,  but  because  things  are  true  or  false,  according  to 
the  side  on  which  we  look  at  them.  The  will,  that  is  more 
pleased  with  one  than  with  another,  hinders  the  mind  from 
considering  the  qualities  of  those  that  it  dislikes  to  see ;  and 
thus  the  mind,  keeping  pace  with  the  will,  fixes  its  attention 
upon  the  side  that  it  likes,  and  thus  it  judges  by  what  it  sees 
in  that. 

YIII. 

The  imagination  magnifies  little  objects  till  they  fill  the 
soul,  by  a  fantastic  estimation ;  and,  by  an  insolent  temerity,  it 
diminishes  great  objects  to  its  own  measure,  as  in  speaking  of 
God. 

IX. 

Weakness. — All  the  occupations  of  men  are  for  the  getting 
of  property ;  and  it  would  be  impossible  for  them  to  show  that 
they  possess  it  justly,1  for  they  have*  only  the  fancy  of  men ; 


1  Nicole  severely  condemned  this  thought,  and  he  was  right.  In  saying 
thai  only  the  f'.in'-y  "f  men  has  established  the  right  of  property,  Pascal 
completely  loses  sight  of  the  Christian  law  which  forbids  not  only  the  tak- 
jig  of  the  goods  of  others,  but  even  the  coveting  of  them,  which  certainly 
does  not  imply  that,  according  to  this  holy  law,  to  possess  is  an  injustice, 
We  say  it  with  regret,  but  however  great  our  respect  for  Pascal,  it  appean 


188  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

nor  have  they  the  power  to  possess  it  securely.  It  is  the  same 
with  science,  for  disease  takes  it  away.  We  are  incapable 
both  of  truth  and  of  good.1 

X. 

What  are  our  natural  principles  except  our  accustomed 
principles?  And  in  children,  those  that  they  have  received 
from  the  custom  of  their  fathers,  as  the  chase  in  animals. 

A  different  custom  will  give  other  natural  principles.  This 
h  seen  by  experience ;  and  if  there  are  natural  principles  inef- 
faceable by  custom,  there  are  also  those  of  custom  contrary  to 
nature,  ineffaceable  by  nature,  and  a  second  custom.  This 
depends  on  the  disposition. 

*[[  Fathers  fear  lest  the  natural  love  of  children  should  be 
effaced?  What  is,  then,  this  nature  liable  to  be  effaced? 
Custom  is  a  second  nature  that  destroys  the  first.  Why  is  not 
custom  itself  natural  ?  I  am  very  much  afraid  that  this  nature 
is  itself  but  a  first  custom,  as  custom  is  a  second  nature. 

XL 

If  we  dreamed  every  night  the  same  thing,  it  would  affect 
us  as  much  as  the  objects  that  we  see  every  day ;  and  if  an 
artisan  were  sure  of  dreaming  every  night,  during  twelve 
hours,  that  he  is  a  king,  I  believe  he  would  be  almost  as  happy 
as  a  king  who  should  dream  every  night,  during  twelve  hours, 
that  he  is  an  artisan. 

If  we  dreamed  every  night  that  we  were  pursued  by  ene- 
mies, and  agitated  by  these  painful  fancies,  and  were  our  days 
passed  in  different  occupations,  as  on  a  journey,  we  should  suffer 
almost  as  much  as  if  this  were  true,  and  we  should  apprehend 
eleep  as  we  apprehend  waking  when  we  fear  to  enter  upon 

•   us  that,  from  this  maxim,  Men  do  not  possess  by  justice,  to  this  other 
naxim,  Property  is  theft,  the  distance  is  not  very  great. 

1  Here,  again,  it  appears  to  us  that  Pascal  is  entirely  out  of  the  way ; 
for,  if  man  i»  really  incapable  of  good,  wherefoic  should  God  have  com- 
manded him  to  do  good  ?  and  whereunto  would  serve  the  precspts  of  reli- 
-ion  ?  whereunto  would  serve  grace  itself? 


CHAPTER   IV.  189 

Mich  misfortunes  in  reality.  And,  in  fact,  it  woiud  produce 
nearly  the  same  ills  as  the  reality.  But  inasmuch  as  dreams 
are  different,  and  the  same  dream  is  varied,  what  we  see  in 
them  affects  us  less  than  what  we  see  waking,  on  account  of 
the  continuity,  which,  nevertheless,  is  not  so  continuous  and 
equal  that  it  does  not  also  change,  but  less  abruptly,  except 
rarely,  as  when  we  are  journeying,  and  then  one  says,  it  seems 
to  me  that  I  am  dreaming,  for  life  is  a  somewhat  less  incon- 
stant dream. 

XII. 

1  Against  Pyrrhonism. —  . . .  We  suppose  that  all  conceive 
them  in  the  same  manner ;  but  this  is  a  very  gratuitous  suppo- 
sition, for  we  have  no  proof  of  it.  I  see  clearly  that  these 
words  are  applied  on  the  same  occasions,  and  that,  whenever 
two  men  see  a  body  change  place,  they  both  express  the  view 
of  the  same  object  by  the  same  word,  both  saying  that  it  has 
moved ;  and  from  this  conformity  of  application  is  deduced  a 
strong  conjecture  of  a  conformity  of  idea ;  but  this  is  not  abso- 
lutely convincing,  with  the  last  degree  of  conviction,  although 
there  is  a  strong  presumption  in  the  affirmative ;  since  we 
know  that  the  same  consequences  are  often  deduced  from  dif- 
ferent suppositions. 

This  is  sufficient  for  at  least  entangling  the  matter ;  not  that 
this  absolutely  extinguishes  the  natural  clearness  which  assures 
us  of  these  things  (the  academicians2  would  then  have  been 
in  the  right) ;  but  this  tarnishes  it,  and  troubles  the  dogma- 
tists, to  the  glory  of  the  Pyrrhonist  cabal,  which  consists  in  this 
double  ambiguity,  and  in  a  certain  doubtful  obscurity,  of  which 


1  This  passage  began  in  these  words:  ".It  is  then  a  strange  thing  that 
we  cannot  define  these  things  without  obscuring  them"  (erased). 

2  There  are  some  philosophers  who  have  made  denying  their  profes- 
sion, and  who  have  even  established  on  that  foundation  the  whole  of  their 
philosophy  ;  and  among  these  philosophers  some  are  satisfied  with  deny- 
ing certainty,  admitting  at  tne  same  time  probability,  and  these  are  the 
Ntio  Academics  :  the  others,  w  ho  are  the  Pyrrhonitts,  have  denied  even 
this  probability,  and  Lave  maintained  that  all  things  aie  equally  certain 
and  uncertain. — (Port-Royal  Logic,  part  iv,  chap,  i.) — Ed. 


190  P 1EOAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

our  doubts  cannot  remove  all  the  clearness,  nor  our  natural 
light  dispel  all  the  darkness. 

XIII. 

Spongia  soils? — When  we  see  an  effect  always  taking  place 
in  the  same  manner,  we  conclude  that  there  is  a  natural  ne- 
cessity for  it,  as,  that  the  sun  will  rise  to-morrow,  etc. ;  but 
nature  often  deceives  us,  and  does  not  bow  to  her  own  laws. 

XIV. 

Contradiction  is  a  bad  mark  of  truth, 

Many  things  that  are  certain  are  contradicted,  many  that 
are  false  pass  without  contradiction  :  neither  is  contradiction  a 
mark  of  falsehood,  nor  non-contradiction  a  mark  of  truth. 

XV. 

The  world  judges  well  of  things,  for  it  is  in  natural  igno- 
rance, which  is  the  true  state  of  man.  The  sciences  have  two 
extremes  that  meet:  the  first  is  the  pure  natural  ignorance 
wherein  all  men  are  found  at  birth.  The  other  extreme  is 
that  reached  by  great  souls,  who,  having  run  over  all  that  men 
can  know,  find  that  they  know  nothing,  and  meet  again  in  that 
same  ignorance  whence  they  set  out.2  But  it  is  a  learned  igno- 
rance that  knows  itself.  Those  between  the  two,  who  have  left 
natural  ignorance,  and  have  not  been  able  to  reach  a  learned 
ignorance,  have  some  tincture  of  this  sufficient  science,  and 

1  Spots  on  the  Sun.  Pascal  doubtless  meant  by  this  strange  title  to  ex- 
press the  idea  that  we  are  perhaps  wrong  in  believing  that  the  sun  will 
rise  to-morrow,  as  it  rose  to-day,  since  the  spots  on  it  might  extinguish  its 
light,  and  thus  nature  might  deceive  us. 

a  "  11  sc  peult  dire,  avecques  apparence,  qu'il  y  a  ignorance  abecedaire, 
jui  va  devant  la  science,  aultre  doctorale,  qui  vient  aprez  la  science,  etc. 
Les  pai'sans  simples  sont  honnestes  gents,  et  honnestes  gents  les  philoso- 
phes,  ou  scion  que  nostre  temps  les  nomme,  des  natures  fortes  et  claires, 
enrichies  d'une  large  instruction  de  sciences  utilcs:  les  inestis,  qui  on* 
desdaigne  le  premier  siege  de  1'ignorance  des  lettres,  et  n'ont  pu  ioindre 
I'aultre  (1.e  cul  entre  deux  selles,  desquels  ie  suis  et  tant  d'aultres),  son! 
daugereux,  ineptes,  importuns;  ceulx-cy  troubleni  le  monde." — Montaigne. 


CHAPTER   IV.  191 

constitute  the  class  of  the  conceited.  These  trouble  the  world, 
and  judge  ill  of  every  thing.  The  people  and  the  capable, 
keep  the  world  going;  the  conceited  despise  it,  and  are  de- 
spised. They  judge  ill  of  all  things,  and  the  world  judges 
rightly  of  them.1 

1  There  are  two  sorts  of  Ignorance:  we  philosophize  to  escape  ignorance, 
and  the  consummation  of  our  philosophy  is  ignorance ;  we  start  from  tha 
one,  we  repose  in  the  other ;  they  are  the  goals  from  which,  and  to  which, 
we  tend ;  and  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  is  but  a  course  between  two  igno- 
rances, as  human  life  is  itself  only  a  wayfaring  from  grave  to  grave.  We 
never  can  emerge  from  ignorance.  If,  as  living  creatures, 

""We  are  such  stuff 

As  dreams  are  made  of,  and  oar  little  life 
la  roanded  with  a  sleep  ;" 

BO,  as  cognizant  intelligences,  our  dream  of  knowledge  is  a  little  light, 
rounded  with  a  darkness.  One  mortal,  one  nation  or  generation  of  mortals, 
may  flare  a  flambeau,  and  anc^ner  twinkle  a  taoer ;  still  the  sphere  of  hu- 
man enlightenment  is  at  best  a  point,  con.^red  with  the  boundless  uni- 
verse of  night  surrounding  it.  Science  is  a  drop ;  nescience  is  the  ocean 
in  which  that  drop  is  whelmed. 

The  highest  reach  of  human  science  is  indeed  the  scientific  recognition 
of  human  ignorance:  "  Qui  nescit  ignorare,  ignorat  scire."  This  "  learned 
ignorance"  is  the  rational  conviction  by  the  human  mind  of  its  inability  to 
transcend  certain  limits ;  it  is  the  knowledge  of  ourselves, — the  science  of 
man.  This  is  accomplished  by  a  demonstration  of  the  disproportion  be- 
tween what  is  to  be  known,  and  our  faculties  of  knowing, — the  dispropor- 
tion, to  wit,  between  the  infinite  and  the  finite.  In  fact,  the  recognition 
of  human  ignorance,  is  not  only  the  one  highest,  but  the  one  true,  knowl- 
edge ;  and  its  first  fruit,  as  has  been  said,  is — humility.  Simple  nescience 
is  not  proud ;  consummated  science  is  positively  humble.  For  this  knowl- 
edge it  is  not  which  "putfeth  up;"  but  its  opposite,  the  conceit  of  false 
knowledge, — the  conceit,  in  truth,  as  the  Apostle  notices  (1  Cor.  viii.  2), 
of  an  ignorance  of  the  very  nature  of  knowledge : 

"Nam  nesciens  quid  scire  sit, 
Te  scire  cuncta  jactitas." 

But  as  our  knowledge  stands  to  Ignorance,  so  stands  it  also  to  Dcmbt 
Doubt  is  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  our  efforts  to  know  ;  for  as  it  is 
true, — "  Alte  dubitat  qui  a»tius  credit,"  so 't  is  likewise  true, — "  Quo  magis 
quserimus  magis  dubitamus." — Doubt  is  even  divinely  enjoined  on  us  as  a 
iuty.  For  the  command  of  the  Apostle, — "Prove  (test)  all  things," 
involves  the  correlative  injunction, — Do^bt  all  things.  And  Bacon  (ol 
Church  Controversies)  truly  says : — "  There  cannot  be  a  '  quod  bonum  est 
tenete,'  without  an  '  omnia  probate'  going  before." 

The  grand  result  of  human  wisdom,  is  thus  only  a  consciousness  that 


192  ASCAL. THOUGHT0, 

XVI. 

Man  is  but  a  being  filled  with  error.  This  error  is  nat- 
ural, and,  without  grace,  ineffaceable.  Nothing  shows  him 
the  truth  :  every  thing  deceives  him.  These  two  principles 
of  truth,  reason  and  the  senses,  besides  lacking  sincerity,  re- 
ciprocally deceive  each  other.  The  senses  deceive  reason  by 
false  appearances;  and  just  as  they  cheat  reason  they  are 
cheated  by  her  in  turn  :  she  has  her  revenge.  Passions  of  the 
soul  trouble  the  senses,  and  give  them  false  impressions.  They 
emulously  lie  and  deceive  each  other.1 

XVII. 

i 

What  most  astonishes  me  is  to  see  that  all  men  are  not  as- 
tonished at  their  weakness.  Men  art  seriously,  and  each  fol- 
lows his  calling  (not  because  it  is  good  in  reality  to  follow  it), 
since  such  is  the  fashion ;  but  as  if  each  one  knew  certainly 
where  reason  and  justice  lie.  Men  find  themselves  deceived 
at  every  hour :  and,  by  a  ridiculous  humility,  believe  that  it 
is  their  fault,  and  not  that  of  the  art  they  always  boast  of  pos- 
sessing. But  it  is  good  that  there  are  so  many  of  these  people 
in  the  world,  who  are  not  Pyrrhonists,  for  the  glory  of  Pyrrho- 
nism, to  the  end  of  showing  that  man  is  very  capable  of  the 
most  extravagant  opinions,  since  he  is  capable  of  believing  that 
he  is  not  in  this  natural  and  inevitable  weakness,  and  of  be- 
lieving that  he  is,  on  the  contrary,  in  natural  wisdom. 

Nothing  strengthens  Pyrrhonism  more  than  what  is  Pyr- 
rhonic  in  those  who  are  not  Pyrrhonists :  if  all  were  Pyrrho- 
nists, they  would  be  wrong. 

what  we  know  is  as  nothing  to  what  we  know  not  ("  Quantum  est  quod 
nescimus  I") — an  articulate  confession,  in  fact,  by  our  natural  reason,  of  th« 
truth  declared  m  revelation, — "that  now  we  see  through  a  glass,  darkly." 
— (Sir  Wm.  Hamilton,  Discussions,  Second  London  Edition,  pp.  634, 
635.)— Ed. 

>  "  Cette  mesme  piperie  que  lea  sens  apportent  a  nostre  entendment,  ilt 
la  refoivent  a  leur  tour;  nostre  ame  parfois  e'en  revenche  de  mesme:  ilt 
mentent  et  se  trompent  a  Penvy." — Montaigne. 


CHAPTER   IV.  193 

xvra. 

This  sect  is  strengthened  more  by  its  enemies  than  by  its 
friends ;  for  the  weakness  of  man  is  much  more  manifest  in 
those  who  are  ignorant  of  it,  than  in  those  who  know  it. 

^f  If  one  is  too  young,  he  does  not  judge  well ;  too  old,  the 
same ;  if  one  does  not  give  the  matter  sufficient  thought  .  .  .  ; 
if  one  thinks  upon  it  too  much,  he  becomes  dogmatic,  and 
makes  a  hobby  of  it.  If  one  considers  his  work  immediately 
after  having  performed  it,  he  is  still  wholly  preoccupied  with 
it;  if  too  long  afterwards,  he  no  longer  enters  into  its  spirit. 
So  with  pictures,  seen  too  far  off  or  too  near ;  there  is  only  an 
indivisible  point  that  is  the  true  place :  other  points  are  too 
near,  too  far  off,  too  high,  or  too  low.  Perspective  assigns  it 
in  the  art  of  painting ;  but  in  truth  and  ethics,  who  shall 
assign  it? 

XIX. 

Those  who  lead  irregular  lives  say  to  those  that  are  living 
orderly,  that  it  is  they  who  abandon  nature  and  believe  they 
are  following  her :  as  those  who  are  on  a  ship  believe  that 
those  on  shore  are  receding.  The  language  is  the  same  on 
both  sides.  It  is  necessary  to  have  a  fixed  point  in  order  to 
judge.  The  port  judges  those  who  are  on  the  ship ;  but  whert 
shall  we  find  a  stand-point  in  ethics  ? 

9 


1 94  PASCAL.  —  THOUGHTS. 


CkAPTEE  Y. 

[INQUIETUDE  or  HAN. — OCCUPATIONS  AND  AMUSEMENTS.] 


Wa  never  confine  ourselves  to  the  present  time.  We  anti- 
cipate the  future  as  too  slow  in  coming,  as  it  were,  to  hasten 
its  coarse ;  or  we  recall  the  past,  in  order  to  stop  it  as  too 
ready  to  go :  so  imprudent,  that  we  wander  into  times  that  are 
not  ours,  and  do  not  think  on  that  alone  which  belongs  to  us ; 
and  so  vain,  that  we  meditate  upon  those  periods  that  have 
vanished,  and  allow  the  sole  moment  that  subsists  to  escape 
without  reflecting  upon  it.  It  is  only  the  present  time  that 
ordinarily  wounds  us.  We  conceal  it  from  our  view,  because 
it  afflicts  us ;  and  if  it  is  agreeable  to  us,  we  regret  to  see  it 
escape.  We  strive  to  prolong  it  by  the  future,  and  think  to 
dispose  of  things  that  are  not  in  our  power,  for  a  time  at  which 
we  have  no  assurance  of  arriving. 

Let  each  one  examine  his  own  thoughts ;  he  will  find  them 
always  occupied  with  the  past  and  the  future.  We  scarcely 
think  of  the  present ;  and  if  we  do  think  of  it,  it  is  only  to  take 
its  light  in  order  to  dispose  of  the  future.  The  present  is  nevet 
our  end ;  the  past  and  the  present  are  our  means ;  the  future 
alone  is  our  end.  Thus  we  never  live,  but  we  hope  to  live ; 
and  always  disposing  ourselves  to  be  happy,1  it  is  inevitable 
that  we  never  become  so. 

IL 

Men  are  charged,  from  their  infancy,  with  the  care  of  their 
honor,  of  their  property,  of  their  friends,  and  also  with  the 

»  We  are  reminded  of  Pope's  line : 

"  Man  never  Is,  but  always  to  be  blessed." — Sd. 


CHAPTER   V.  195 

property  and  honor  of  their  friends.  They  are  overwhelmed 
with  affairs,  with  apprenticeship  to  languages  and  sciences,  and 
are  taught  that  they  cannot  be  happy  unless  their  health,  their 
honor,  their  own  and  their  friends'  fortunes,  are  in  a  good  con 
dition,  and  that  the  failure  of  any  one  of  these  things  would 
render  them  unhappy.  Thus  they  are  given  cares  and  occupa 
tions  that  keep  them  busy  from  morning  till  night.  This,  you 
will  say,  is  a  strange  way  of  rendering  them  happy !  What 
more  could  be  done  to  render  them  unhappy  ?  How !  what 
could  be  done  ?  It  would  only  be  necessary  to  take  from  them 
all  these  cares ;  for  then  they  would  see  themselves,  they 
would  think  on  what  they  are,  whence  they  come,  whither 
they  go ;  and  thus  they  cannot  be  too  much  occupied  and  dis- 
tracted ;  and  accordingly,  after  having  been  provided  with  so 
many  affairs,  if  they  have  some  time  for  relaxation,  they  are 
counselled  to  employ  it  in  diverting  themselves,  in  playing, 
and  in  occupying  themselves  constantly  and  wholly.1 

^|"  Amusement? — When  I  have  sometimes  set  myself  to 
consider  the  various  agitations  of  men,  and  the  perils  and 
pains  to  which  they  expose  themselves,  in  the  court,  in  war, 
whence  spring  so  many  quarrels,  passions,  bold  and  often 
criminal  enterprises,  I  have  often  said  that  all  the  unhappiness 
of  men  comes  from  a  single  thing,  which  is,  that  they  have  not 
the  wisdom  to  remain  in  tranquillity  at  home.  A  man  who 
has  property  enough  to  live,  if  he  could  remain  at  home  with 
pleasure,  would  not  go  abroad  for  adventures  on  the  sea  or  at 
a  siege.  A  man  purchases  a  post  in  the  army  at  a  high  price 
only  because  he  finds  it  insupportable  not  to  leave  the  town ; 
and  conversation  and  the  distractions  of  play  are  sought  only 
because  people  cannot  remain  at  home  with  pleasure. 


>  On  the  margin  of  the  MS. :  How  hottow  and  fuO,  of  ordure  is  the  heart 
of  man  ! 

8  By  this  word,  amusement,  which  is  found  ir.  the  MS.  repeated  at  the 
head  of  several  fragments,  Pascal  makes  allusion  to  the  need  felt  by  men 
of  occupying  or  amusing  themselves,  in  order  not  to  think  of  the  problem 
of  the  present  life,  and  the  mysteries  of  the  life  to  come.  This  is  the 
meaning  of  this  paragraph  and  all  those  that  b  -ar  the  same  title. 


196  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

But  when  I  have  thought  more  closely  on  the  matter,  and, 
after  having  found  the  more  obvious  cause  of  our  ills,  have  en- 
deavored to  discover  their  reason,  I  have  found  that  there  is  a 
very  effective  one,  which  consists  in  the  natural  evil  of  our 
feeble  and  mortal  condition, — a  condition  so  miserable  that 
nothing  can  console  us  when  we  consider  it  closely. 

Whatever  condition  one  imagines  for  himself,  if  one  collects 
all  the  goods  that  can  belong  to  us,  royalty  is  the  finest  posi- 
tion in  the  world,  and  nevertheless  let  one  imagine  to  himseL 
[a  king]  accompanied  by  all  the  satisfactions  his  state  can  fur- 
nish ;  if  he  is  without  amusement,  and  is  left  to  consider  and 
reflect  upon  what  he  is,  this  languishing  felicity  will  not  sustain 
him ;  he  will  fall  by  necessity  into  various  forebodings,  as  of 
revolts  that  may  happen,  in  short,  of  death  and  maladies  that 
are  inevitable ;  so  that,  if  he  is  without  what  is  called  amuse- 
ment, he  is  unhappy,  and  more  unhappy  than  the  least  of  his 
subjects  who  plays  and  diverts  himself. 

Hence  it  comes  that  play,  and  the  conversation  of  women, 
war,  high  employments,  are  so  much  sought  after.  Not  that 
there  is  in  fact  happiness  in  them,  nor  that  one  imagines  true 
happiness  to  be  in  the  money  that  may  be  gained  by  play,  or 
in  the  hare  that  is  chased.  Nothing  of  this  kind  would  be 
accepted  were  it  offered.  It  is  not  this  quiet  effeminate  life 
allowing  us  to  think  on  our  unfortunate  condition,  that  we  seek, 
nor  the  dangers  of  war,  nor  the  pain  of  employments,  but  the 
confusion  which  keeps  us  from  thinking  on  our  condition  and 
diverts  us.' 

Hence  it  comes  that  men  are  so  fond  of  noise  and  commo- 
tion ;  hence  it  comes  that  imprisonment  is  such  a  horrible 
punishment ;  hence  it  comes  that  the  pleasure  of  solitude  is 
something  incomprehensible.  And  it  is,  in  short,  the  main 
source  of  felicity  in  the  condition  of  kings,  that  those  about 
them  unceasingly  strive  to  divert  them,  and  procure  them  all 
sorts  of  pleasures. 

1  On  the  margin  of  the  MS. :  Reason  why  we  love  the  chase  more  than  fit 
gamt. 


CHAPTER    V.  197 

A  king  is  surrounded  by  people  who  think  only  of  iiverting 
him,  and  hinder  him  from  thinking  on  himself.  For  he  is  un  • 
aappy,  king  as  he  is,  if  he  thinks  on  his  own  condition. 

This  is  all  that  men  have  been  able  to  invent  to  make  them 
selves  happy.  And  those  who  philosophize  upon  the  matter, 
and  believe  that  the  world  is  very  irrational  to  spend  a  whole 
day  in  running  after  a  hare  that  they  would  not  have  pur- 
chased, know  but  little  of  our  nature.  This  hare  would  not 
secure  us  from  the  view  of  death  and  the  miseries  that  turn  us 
aside  from  it,1  but  the  chase  does  secure  us  from  them.  And 
thus,  when  they  are  reproached  for  seeking  with  so  much 
ardor  what  can  give  them  no  satisfaction,  if  they  responded,  a* 
they  should  do  if  they  considered  the  matter  well,  that  they 
seek  in  this  only  a  violent  and  impetuous  occupation  which 
keeps  them  from  thinking  on  themselves,  and  that  in  this  they 
propose  to  themselves  an  attractive  object  which  charms  and 
attracts  them  with  ardor,  they  would  leave  their  adversaries 
without  reply.1  But  they  do  not  respond  thus,  because  they 
know  not  themselves ; 3  they  know  not  that  it  is  only  the  chase, 
and  not  the  taking  of  the  game,  that  they  seek. 

*j[  They  imagine  that,  if  they  had  obtained  this  post,  they 
would  then  settle  down  in  content,  and  do  not  feel  the  insatia- 
ble nature  of  their  cupidity.  They  believe  they  are  sincerely 
seeking  repose,  and  are  seeking  in  reality  only  agitation. 

They  have  a  secret  instinct  that  leads  them  to  seek  external 
distraction  and  occupation,  which  springs  from  the  sense  of 
their  continual  miseries ;  and  they  have  another  secret  instinct, 


1  These  words,  "  that  turn  us  aside  from  it,"  are  found  in  the  MS.  We 
thought  it  our  duty  to  reproduce  them,  notwithstanding  their  obscurity. 
We  think,  howevar,  they  may  be  understood  thus :  "  This  hare  secures  us 
;  either  from  the  view  of  death,  nor  the  chagrins  (the  miseries)  of  thinking 
»f  death,  but  the  chase  does  secure  us  from  them.  Thus  we  are  distracted 
rrom  the  thoughts  of  death,  and  from  the  rn'iiories  that  turn  us  aside  from 
whis  thought,  by  the  chase." 

»  On  the  margin  of  the  MS. :  Th«  dance.  We  must  mind  where  we  put 
*ur  feet. 

'  On  the  margin  of  the  MS. :  The  gentleman  really  believes  that  th« 
shase  IB  a  high  and  royal  amusement ;  but  his  huntsman  does  not  think  so 


198  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

which  remains  from  the  greatness  of  our  first  nature,  which 
tells  them  that  happiness  is,  in  fact,  only  in  repose,  aud  not  in 
tumult ;  and  of  these  two  contrary  instincts  there  is  formed  in 
them  a  confused  project,  which  is  concealed  from  their  view  in 
the  depths  of  their  soul,  which  leads  them  to  seek  repose  through 
agitation,  and  always  to  imagine  that  the  satisfaction  which 
they  have  not  will  come  to  them,  if,  surmounting  a  few  diffi- 
culties that  they  face,  they  can  thereby  open  for  themselves  the 
gate  to  repose. 

Thus  glides  all  life  away.  We  seek  repose  in  combat- 
ing a  few  obstacles;  and  if  we  have  surmounted  them,  the 
repose  becomes  insupportable ;  for,  we  either  think  on  the 
miseries  that  we  have,  or  on  those  that  threaten  us.  And  even 
were  we  sufficiently  protected  on  all  sides,  ennui,  deprived  of 
its  authority,  would  not  fail  to  come  out  from  the  depths  of  the 
heart,  where  it  has  its  natural  roots,  and  fill  the  mind  with  its 
venom. 

The  counsel  given  to  Pyrrhus,  to  take  the  repose  that  he 
was  about  to  seek  with  so  much  fatigue,  admits  of  many  diffi- 
culties. 

Thus  man  is  so  unhappy,  that  he  is  even  wearied  without 
any  cause  of  weariness,  by  the  peculiar  condition  of  his  consti- 
tution ;  and  he  is  so  vain  that,  filled  with  a  thousand  essential 
causes  of  weariness,  the  least  thing,  as  a  game  of  billiards,1  suf- 
lices  to  divert  him. 

But,  you  will  say,  what  object  has  he  in  all  this  ?  That  of 
boasting  to-morrow  among  his  friends  that  he  has  played  bet- 
ter than  another.  Thus  others  sweat  in  their  closets  in  order 
to  show  to  the  learned  that  they  have  resolved  an  algebraical 
problem  for  the  first  time ;  and  so  many  others  expose  them- 
selves to  extreme  perils  in  order  to  boast  afterwards  of  having 
Jaken  a  place,  and  as  foolishly,  in  my  opinion.  And,  in  fine, 
ethers  wear  themselves  out  in  studying  all  these  things,  not  in 
order  to  become  more  wise,  but  simply  to  show  that  they  know 
them ;  and  these  are  the  most  foolish  of  all,  since  they  are 

i  VAB.  OF  MS. :  "  As  a  dog,  a  ball,  a  hare"  (erased). 


CHAPTER   Y.  199 

consciously  foolish,  while  we  may  suppose  that  others  would 
BO  longer  be  foolish  if  they  were  conscious  of  it. 

Such  a  man  spends  his  life  without  weariness,  by  playing 
every  day  for  a  small  stake.     Give  him  every  morning  th 
money  that  he  may  gain  during  the  day,  on  condition  that  h 
does  not  play — you  will  make  him  unhappy.     It  will  perhap 
be  said  that  what  he  seeks  is  the  amusement  of  play,  not  gain 
Let  him  play  then  for  nothing;  he  will  lose  his  interest  and 
be  wearied.     It  is  not  then  amusement  alone  that  he  seeks : 
a  languishing  and  passionless  amusement  will  weary  him.     He 
must  be  warmed  by  it  and  cheat  himself,  by  imagining  that  he 
will  be  happy  by  gaining  what  he  would  not  care  to  have 
given  him  on  condition  of  not  playing,  to  the  end  that  passion 
may  be  excited,  that  he  may  arouse  his  desire,  his  anger,  his 
fear,  for  the  object  that  he  has  set  before  him,  as  children1  are 
frightened  at  the  faces  they  have  daubed. 

Whence  comes  it  that  that  man,  who  lost  his  only  son  a  few 
months  ago,  and  who,  overwhelmed  with  litigation  and  con- 
tention, was  so  troubled  this  morning,  no  longer  thinks  of  these 
things  now  ?  Do  not  be  surprised  at  it :  he  is  wholly  occupied 
in  watching  the  course  of  that  boar  which  the  dogs  have  been 
pursuing  so  fiercely  for  six  hours.  He  wants  nothing  more.' 

1  "C'est  piti6  que  nous  nous  pipons  de  nos  propres  singeries  et  inven- 
tions ....  comme  les  enfants  qui  s'effroient  de  ce  mesme  visage  quails  ont 
barbouille  et  noircy  d  leur  compaignon." — Montaigne. 

8  VAR  OF  MS. :  "  That  man  so  afflicted  by  the  death  of  his  wife  and 
only  son,  who  has  a  great  quarrel  which  torments  him, — whence  comes  it 
that  at  this  moment  he  is  not  sad,  and  is  seen  to  be  so  free  from  all  his 
painful  and  disquieting  thoughts  ?    We  need  not  wonder  at  it ;  a  ball  has 
just  been  thrown  to  him,  and  he  must  throw  it  back  to  his  companion. 
He  is  occupied  in  catching  it  as  it  falls  from  the  roof  in  order  to  win  a  run 
how  do  you  suppose  that  he  can  think  of  his  aft'airs,  having  this  othe 
affair  to  attend  to?    This  is  a  care  worthy  of  occupying  that  great  soul 
and  of  taking  from  it  every  other  thought  of  the  mind.     That  man,  bom 
to  know  the  universe,  to  judge  of  all  things,  to  rule  an  entire  State, — be- 
hold him  occupied  and  wholly  filled  with  the  care  of  taking  a  hare.     And 
f  he  does  not  lower  himself  to  this,  and  would  keep  his  powers  ever  or 
foe  stretch,  he  would  only  be  the  more  foolish,  because  he  would  elevate 
uimeeLf  above  humanity,  and  ie,  at  the  end  of  the  account,  only  a  man, 
that  is,  capable  of  little  and  of  much,  of  every  thing  and  of  nothing.    Ht 


200  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

Man,  however  full  of  grief  he  may  be,  if  he  can  be  prevailed 
upon  to  engage  in  some  amusement,  is  for  the  time  happy. 
And  man,  however  happy  he  may  be,  if  he  is  not  diverted 
and  occupied  by  some  passion  or  some  amusement  that  shields 
him  from  the  approach  of  weariness,  will  soon  be  troubled 
and  unhappy.  Without  diversion  there  is  no  joy ;  with  diver- 
sion there  is  no  sadness.  And  this  is  also  what  makes  the 
happiness  of  persons  of  high  condition, — that  they  have  a 
number  of  persons  about  them  who  divert  them,  and  have  the 
power  of  keeping  them  in  this  state. 

Just  consider :  What  else  is  it  to  be  superintendent,  chan- 
cellor, high  president,  than  to  be  in  a  condition  that  brings 
from  morning  till  night  a  great  number  of  people  from  all 
quarters,  who  leave  such  dignitaries  not  a  single  hour  of 
the  day  wherein  they  can  think  of  themselves  ?  And  when 
they  are  in  disgrace  and  are  sent  to  their  country  houses, 
where  they  lack  neither  goods  nor  domestics  to  assist  them  in 
their  needs,  they  cease  not  to  be  wretched  and  desolate,  be- 
cause no  one  hinders  them  from  thinking  of  themselves. 

^[  Amusement. — Is  not  royal  dignity  sufficiently  great  of 
itself  for  him  who  possesses  it,  to  make  him  happy  by  the 
mere  contemplation  of  what  he  is  ?  Must  he  be  diverted  from 
this  thought  the  same  as  ordinary  men  ?  I  see  clearly  that  it 
makes  a  man  happy  to  divert  him  from  the  contemplation  of 
his  domestic  miseries  in  order  to  fill  his  whole  mind  with  the 
care  of  dancing  well.  But  will  it  be  the  same  with  the  king, 
and  will  he  be  more  happy  in  attaching  himself  to  these  vain 
amusements  than  in  the  contemplation  of  his  greatness  ?  And 
what  more  satisfying  object  could  be  given  to  his  mind  ? 
Would  it  not  then  be  marring  his  joy,  to  occupy  his  soul  in 
thinking  how  to  adjust  his  steps  to  the  cadence  of  an  air,  or 
adroitly  to  place  a  billiard-ball,  instead  of  leaving  him  to 
enjoy  in  tranquillity  the  meditation  of  the  glory  and  majesty 


:B  neither  angel  nor  beast,  but  man.  A  single  thought  occupies  us,  w» 
*annot  think  of  two  things  at  once.  Of  all  which  may  good  betide  u« 
according  to  the  world,  not  according  to  God  "  (erased). 


CHAPTER   V.  201 

which  surround  him  ?  Let  the  experiment  be  tried :  let  a 
king  be  left  wholly  alone,  without  any  satisfaction  from  his 
senses,  without  any  care  on  his  mind,  without  company,  to 
think  quite  at  leisure  on  himself,  and  it  will  be  seen  that  a 
king  without  amusement  is  a  man  full  of  miseries.  Hence 
this  is  carefully  avoided,  and  there  is  never  wanting  about  the 
persons  of  kings  a  great  number  of  people  on  the  watch  to 
provide  amusement  when  business  is  over,  and  to  fill  up  every 
interval  of  leisure  with  pleasures  and  games,  so  that  there  may 
be  no  void ;  that  is,  they  are  surrounded  by  persons  who  take 
wonderful  care  that  the  king  shall  not  be  left  alone  and  in  a 
situation  to  think  of  himself, — knowing  well  that  he  would  be 
miserable,  king  as  he  is,  if  he  does. 

I  do  not  speak  in  all  this  of  Christian  kings  as  Christians, 
but  simply  as  kings. 

^[  Misery. — The  only  thing  that  consoles  us  for  our  miseries 
is  amusement,  and  nevertheless,  it  is  the  greatest  of  our  mis- 
eries. For  it  is  this  which  principally  keeps  us  from  thinking 
of  ourselves,  and  leads  us  insensibly  to  perdition.  Without 
this,  we  should  be  left  in  weariness,  and  this  weariness  would 
impel  us  to  seek  more  effectual  means  of  deliverance.  But 
diversion  amuses  us,  and  leads  us  insensibly  on  to  death.1 

Amusement. — If  man  were  happy,  he  would  be  so  much 
the  more  so  as  he  were  less  diverted,  like  the  saints  and  God. 

True,  but  is  it  not  to  be  happy  to  be  able  to  be  rejoiced  by 
amusement  ?  No,  for  it  is  adventitious  and  external ;  and 
thus  it  is  dependent,  and  therefore  liable  to  be  troubled  by  a 
thousand  accidents,  which  make  unavoidable  afflictions. 

i  Nicole  in  the  Traite  de  la  connaissance  de  soi-meme,  chap.  1st,  and  in 
I  he  Letire  au  Marquis  de  Semgne,  has  g'ven  a  profound  examination  of  thj 
klei£  developed  by  Pascal  in  the  Drecedicjr  pages. 


202  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

[ON  CERTAIN   OPINIONS   AND   CERTAIN   USAGES.] 
I. 

Pyrrhonism. — I  will  here  write  my  thoughts  without  order 
and  not  perhaps  in  a  confusion  without  design  :  it  is  the  true 
order,  the  order  that  will  always  indicate  my  object  even  by 
disorder. 

I  should  honor  my  subject  too  much  were  I  to  treat  it  with 
order,  since  I  wish  to  show  that  it  is  incapable  of  it. 

II. 

Reason  of  Effects. — Gradation.  The  people  honor  persons 
of  high  birth.  The  semi-cultivated  despise  them,  saying  that 
birth  is  not  an  advantage  of  the  person,  but  of  chance.  The 
cultivated  honor  them,  not  by  the  thought  of  the  people,  but 
by  after-thought.  The  devotees  who  have  more  zeal  than 
knowledge  despise  them,  in  spite  of  the  consideration  that 
makes  them  honored  by  the  cultivated,  since  they  form  a 
judgment  by  a  new  light  which  is  given  them  by  piety.  But 
perfect  Christians  honor  them  by  another  light  which  is  higher. 
Hence  opinions,  pro  and  con,  succeed  each  other,  according  to 
the  degree  of  light  men  have. 

^[  Reason  of  Effects. — Perpetual  revolution  of  pro  and  con. 

We  have  therefore  shown  that  man  is  vain  by  his  esteerc 
for  things  that  are  not  essential.  And  all  these  opinions  havf 
been  destroyed.  We  have  then  shown  that  all  these  opinions 
*re  very  sound,  and  that  hence,  all  these  vanities  having  a 
good  foundation,  the  people  are  not  so  vain  as  it  is  said.  And 
thus  we  have  destroyed  the  opinion  that  destroys  that  of  the 
people. 

But  it  is  now  necessary  to  destroy  this  last  proposition,  and 


CHAPTER    VI.  203 

to  show  that  it  is  always  true  that  the  people  are  vain,  although 
their  opinions  may  be  sound,  since  they  do  not  feel  the  truth 
where  it  is,  and  since,  placing  it  where  it  is  not,  their  opinions 
are  always  very  false  and  unsound. 

Reason  of  effects. — It  is,  then,  true  to  say  that  the  whole 
world  is  in  illusion :  for  even  though  the  opinions  of  the  peo- 
ple may  be  sound,  they  are  not  so  in  their  heads,  for  they 
think  that  the  truth  is  where  it  is  not.  The  truth  is  indeed  in 
their  opinions,  but  not  at  the  point  they  imagine.  For  exam- 
ple, it  is  true  that  gentlemen  must  be  honored,  but  not  because 
birth  is  an  effective  advantage,  etc. 

Ill 

Opinions  of  the  people  sound. — Civil  wars  are  the  greatest 
of  evils.  They  are  inevitable,  if  we  wish  to  reward  merit,  for  all 
will  say  that  they  are  meritorious.  The  evil  to  be  feared  from 
a  fool,  who  succeeds  by  right  of  birth,  is  neither  so  great,  nor 
BO  inevitable. 

IV. 

Why  do  we  follow  the  majority  ?  Is  it  because  they  have 
more  reason  ?  No,  but  more  force.  Why  do  we  follow  ancient 
laws  and  ancient  opinions  ?  Is  it  because  they  are  sounder  ? 
No,  but  they  are  exclusive,  and  rid  us  of  the  root  of  diver- 
sity. 

V. 

The  dominion  fpunded  on  opinion  and  imagination  lasts  a 
considerable  period,  and  this  dominion  is  mild  and  voluntary  : 
that  of  force  lasts  always.  Thus  opinion1  is,  as  it  were,  the 
queen  of  the  world,  but  force  is  its  tyrant. 

1  Man  is  by  nature  a  social  animal.  "  He  is  more  political,"  says  Aris- 
totle, "  than  any  bee  or  ant."  (Epist.  xciv.)  But  the  existence  of  society, 
from  a  family  to  a  state,  supposes  a  certain  harmony  of  sentiment  among 
its  members;  and  nature  has,  accordingly,  wisely  implanted  in  us  a  ten- 
dency to  assimilate  in  opinions  and  habits  of  thought  to  those  with  whom 
we  live  and  act.  There  is  thus,  in  every  society,  great  or  small,  a  certain 
gravitation  of  opinions  towards  a  common  centre.  As  in  our  natural  body, 
>«ery  part  has  a  necessary  sympathy  with  every  other,  and  all  togethei 


204  PASCAL. THOUGH!  b. 


VI. 

How  proper  has  it  been  to  distinguish  men  by  the  exterior, 
rather  than  by  internal  qualities !     Which  of  us  two  shall  take 

form,  by  their  harmonious  conspiration,  a  healthy  whole ;  so,  in  the  social 
body,  there  is  always  a  strong  predisposition,  in  each  of  its  members,  to 
act  and  think  in  unison  with  the  rest.  This  universal  sympathy,  or  fellow- 
feeling,  of  our  social  nature,  is  the  principle  of  the  different  spirit  domi- 
nant in  different  ages,  countries,  ranks,  sexes,  and  periods  of  life.  It  ia 
the  cause  why  fashions,  why  political  and  religious  enthusiasm,  why  moral 
example,  either  for  good  or  evil,  spread  so  rapidly,  and  exert  so  powerful 
an  influence.  As  men  are  naturally  prone  to  imitate  others,  they  conse- 
quently regard,  as  important  or  insignificant,  as  honorable  or  disgraceful, 
ns  true  or  false,  as  good  or  bad,  what  those  around  them  consider  in  the 
same  light.  They  love  and  hate  what  they  see  others  desire  and  eschew. 
This  is  not  to  be  regretted ;  it  is  natural,  and,  consequently,  it  is  right. 
Indeed,  were  it  otherwise,  society  could  not  subsist,  for  nothing  can  be 
more  apparent  than  that  mankind  in  general,  destined  as  they  are  to  occu- 
pations incompatible  with  intellectual  cultivation,  are  wholly  incapable  ol 
forming  opinions  for  themselves  on  many  of  the  most  important  objects  of 
human  consideration.  If  such,  however,  be  the  intentions  of  nature  with 
respect  to  the  unenlightened  classes,  it  is  manifest  that  a  heavier  obliga- 
tion is  thereby  laid  on  those  who  enjoy  the  advantages  of  intellectual  cul- 
tivation, to  examine  with  diligence  and  impartiality  the  foundation  of 
those  opinions  which  have  any  connection  with  the  welfare  of  mankind. 
If  the  multitude  must  be  led,  it  is  of  consequence  that  it  be  led  by  enlight- 
ened conductors.  That  the  great  multitude  of  mankind  are,  by  natural 
disposition,  only  what  others  are,  is  a  fact  at  all  times  so  obtrusive,  that  it 
could  not  escape  observation  from  the  moment  a  reflective  eye  was  first 
turned  upon  man.  "  The  whole  conduct  of  Cambyses,"  says  Herodotus, 
(Lib.  iii,  37,  38),  the  father  of  history,  "  towards  the  Egyptian  gods,  sanc- 
tuaries, and  priests,  convinces  me  that  this  king  was  in  the  highest  degree 
insane,  for  otherwise  he  would  not  have  insulted  the  worship  and  holy 
things  of  the  Egyptians.  If  any  one  should  accord  to  all  men  the  permis- 
sion to  make  free  choice  of  the  best  among  all  customs,  undoubtedly  each 
would  choose  his  own.  That  this  would  certainly  happen  can  be  shown 
by  many  examples,  and,  among  others,  by  the  following :  The  King 
Darius  once  asked  the  Greeks,  who  were  resident  in  his  court,  at  wha*; 
-,-rice  they  could  be  induced  to  devour  their  dead  parents.  The  Greeks 
answered  that  to  this  no  price  could  bribe  them.  Thereupon  the  king 
asked  some  Indians  who  were  in  the  habit  of  eating  their  dead  parents, 
what  they  would  take  not  to  eat  but  to  burn  them ;  and  the  Indians  an- 
swered even  as  the  Greeks  had  done."  Herodotus  concludes  this  narra- 
Mve  with  the  observation,  that  "Pindar  had  justly  entitled  Custom—  the 
Queen  of  the  World." 

The  ancient  skeptics,  from  the  conformity  of  men  in  every  country,  thei 
habits  of  thinking,  feeling,  and  acting,  ana  from  the  diversity  of  differen 


CHAPTER   VI.  205 

Jie  precedence?  which  shall  give  place  to  the  other?  The 
least  cultivated?  but  I  am  as  cultivated  as  he  is;  it  will  be 
necessary  to  fight  on  this  point.  He  has  four  lackeys,  and  I 
have  but  one :  that  is  perfectly  obvious ;  there  is  nothing  to 

nations  in  these  habits,  inferred  that  nothing  was  by  nature  beautiful  «r 
deformed,  true  or  false,  good  or  bad,  but  that  these  distinctions  originated 
solelv  in  custom.  The  modern  skepticism  of  Montaigne  terminates  in  the 
name  assertion  ;  and  the  sublime  misanthropy  of  Pascal  has  almost  carried 
him  to  a  similar  exaggeration.  .  .  . 

Nor  is  this  influence  of  man  on  man  less  unambiguous  in  times  of  social 
tranquillity,  than  in  crises  of  social  convulsion.  In  seasons  of  political  and 
reli>fi'  w  revolution,  there  arises  a  straggle  between  the  resisting  force  of 
ancient  habits  and  the  contagious  sympathy  of  new  modes  of  feeling  and 
thought.  In  one  portion  of  society,  the  inveterate  influence  of  custom  pre- 
vails over  the  contagion  of  example ;  in  others,  the  contagion  of  example  pre- 
vails over  the  conservative  force  of  antiquity  and  habit.  In  either  case, 
however,  we  think  and  act  always  in  sympathy  with  others.  "  We  remain," 
says  an  illustrious  philosopher,  "  submissive  so  long  as  the  world  continues 
to  set  the  example.  As  we  follow  the  herd  in  forming  our  conceptions  01 
what  is  respectable,  so  we  are  ready  to  follow  the  multitude  also,  when 
such  conceptions  come  to  be  questioned  or  rejected;  and  are  no  less  vehe- 
ment reformers,  when  the  current  of  opinion  has  turned  against  former 
establishments,  than  we  were  zealous  abettors  while  that  current  continued 
to  set  in  a  different  direction."  (Ferguson's  Moral  and  Political  Science, 
vol.  i,  part  i,  chap,  ii,  §  11,  p.  135.) 

Thus  it  is  that  no  revolution  in  public  opinion  is  the  work  of  an  indi- 
vidual, of  a  single  cause,  or  of  a  day.  When  the  crisis  has  arrived,  tho 
catastrophe  must  ensue ;  but  the  agents  through  whom  it  is  apparently 
accomplished,  though  they  may  accelerate,  cannot  originate  its  occurrence. 
Who  believes  that  but  for  Luther  or  Zwingli  the  Reformation  would  not 
have  been  ?  Their  individual,  their  personal  energy  and  zeal,  perhaps, 
hastened  by  a  year  or  two  the  event ;  but  had  the  public  mind  not  been 
;lready  ripe  for  their  revolt,  the  fate  of  Luther  and  Zwingli,  4n  the  six- 
teenth century,  would  have  been  that  of  Huss  and  Jerome  of  Prague,  in 
the  fifteenth.  Woe  to  the  revolutionist  who  is  not  himself  a  creature  ol 
the  revolution  !  If  he  anticipate,  he  is  lost ;  for  it  requires  what  no  indi- 
vidual can  supply,  a  long  and  powerful  counter-sympathy  in  a  nation,  to 
antwine  the  ties  of  custom  which  bind  a  people  to  the  established  and  the 
old.  .  .  . 

"  Almost  every  opinion  we  have,"  says  the  pious  Charron,  "  we  have 
but  by  authority ;  we  believe,  judge,  act,  live,  and  die  on  trust,  as  common 
custom  teaches  us ;  and  rightly,  for  we  are  too  weak  to  decide  and  choose 
of  ourselves.  But  the  wise  do  not  act  thus."  (Dt  la  Sagesse,  liv.  i,  chap, 
xvi.)  "Every  opinion,"  says  Montaigne,  "is  strong  enough  to  have  hud 
its  martyrs."  (£ssau,  liv.  i,  chap,  xl.)  And  Sir  W.  Raleigh, — "It  ii 
»pimon,  not  truth,  that  travelleth  the  world  without  passport."  (Prefaos 


206  PASCAL. —  TjieTJGHTS. 

do  but  to  count ;  it  belongs  to  me  to  yield,  and  I  am  a  fool  if 
I  contest  the  matter.  We  are  by  this  means  in  peace,  which 
is  the  greatest  of  goods.1 

VII. 

The  habit  of  seeing  kings  accompanied  by  guards,  drums, 
officers,  and  all  the  machinery  for  inspiring  respect  and  terror, 
is  the  reason  why  their  visage,  when  they  are  sometimes  alone 
and  unaccompanied,  impresses  their  subjects  with  respect  and 
terror,  because  men  do  not  separate  in  thought  their  person 
from  their  retinue,  with  which  they  are  usually  attended.  And 
the  world,  which  does  not  know  that  this  effect  has  its  origin 
in  this  custom,  believes  that  it  comes  from  a  natural  force ; 
and  hence  come  these  words :  The  character  of  the  Divinity  is 
stamped  upon  his  countenance,  etc. 

^[  The  power  of  kings  is  founded  on  reason  and  the  peoples' 
folly,  and  much  more  on  the  folly.  The  greatest  and  most 
important  thing  in  the  world  has  weakness  for  its  basis :  and 
this  basis  is  marvellously  certain ;  for  there  is  nothing  more 
certain  than  this — that  the  people  will  be  weak.  What  is 
founded  on  sound  reason  is  ill  founded,  as  the  esteem  of 
wisdom. 

VIII. 

The  Swiss  are  offended  at  being  called  gentlemen,  and  prove 
themselves  plebeians  in  order  to  be  judged  worthy  of  great 
employments. 

to  his  History  of  the  World.)  "  Opinion,"  says  Heraclitus,  is  a  falling 
sickness."  (Diog.  Laert.  lib.  ix,  §  7.)  And  Luther, — "O  doxa!  doxa! 
quam  es  communis  noxa."  In  a  word,  as  Hommel  has  it,  "  An  ounco  of 
custom  outweighs  a  ton  of  reason."  (Alex.  V.  Joch  [Hommel],  Uber  Jteloh.- 
nung  und  Strafe,  p.  111.  See  Krug,  Philosophisches  Lexikon,  vol.  v,  p.  467, 
art.  Gfwohnheit.) — (Sir  William  Hamilton's  Lectures  on  Metaphysics,  vol.  i, 
pp.  84-89.)— Ed. 

1  This  thought  is  not  in  the  MS. ;  we  find  there  only  this  isolated  line : 
He  has  four  lackeys.  There  has.  been,  however,  a  very  strong  inclination 
.,0  attribute  to  Pascal  this  development,  the  form  of  wh'ich  is  lively,  familiar 
dramatic.  Perhaps  the  editors  reproduced  it  from  memory,  after  a  conver 
lation  with  Pascal. — Manet. 


CHAPTER    VI.  207 

IX. 

Men  do  not  choose  among  navigators  the  one  who  is  of 
highest  birth  to  command  a  ship.1 

^[  Saint  Augustine  saw  that  men  labor  for  the  uncertain,  at 
sea,  in  battle,  etc. ;  he  did  not  see  the  rule  of  chance  which 
demonstrates  that  this  ought  to  be  done.  Montaigne  saw  that 
we  are  offended  at  a  crippled  mind,  and  that  custom  can  do 
every  thing ;  but  he  did  not  see  the  reason  of  this  effect.  All 
these  persons  saw  the  effects,  but  they  did  not  see  the  causes ; 
they  are,  in  comparison  with  those  who  have  discovered  causes, 
like  those  who  have  eyes  only,  in  comparison  with  those  who 
have  mind ;  for  effects  are,  as  it  were,  sensible,  and  causes  are 
visible  only  to  the  mind.  And  although  these  effects  are  seen 
by  the  mind,  this  mind  is,  in  comparison  with  the  mind  that 
sees  causes,  like  the  corporeal  senses,  in  comparison  with  *Jbe 
mind. 

X. 

Whence  comes  it  that  a  cripple  does  not  irritate  us,  and  a 
crippled  mind  does  irritate  us  ?  Because  a  cripple  recognizes 
that  we  go  straight,  and  a  crippled  spirit  says  that  it  is  we 
who  limp ;  were  it  not  for  this  we  should  have  pity  for  him 
and  not  anger. 

Epictetus  much  more  forcibly  asks  why  we  are  not  displeased 
if  we  are  told  that  we  have  a  headache,  and  are  displeased  to 

1  M.  Faugere  gives  this  thought  with  the  following  amplification :  "  The 
most  unreasonable  things  in  the  world  become  the  most  reasonable,  on 
account  of  the  irregularity  of  men.  What  is  less  reasonable  than  to  choose 
the  first  son  of  a  queen  to  govern  a  state?  Men  do  not  choose  among  navi- 
gators the  one  who  is  of  highest  birth  to  command  a  ship  ;  this  law  would  be 
ridiculous  and  unjust.  But  because  they  are.  and  always  will  be  [ridiculous 
nnd  unjust],  it  becomes  reasonable  and  just.  For  whom  shall  we  choose? 
The  most  virtuous  and  the  most  capable  ?  We  are  then  straightway  in 
difficulty :  each  one  pretends  to  oe  the  most  virtuous  and  the  most  capa- 
ble. Let  us,  then,  attach  this  quality  to  something  incontestable.  It  is 
he  eldest  son  of  the  king  ;  this  is  clear,  there  is  no  dispute  about  it.  Rea- 
son cannot  do  better,  for  civil  war  is  the  greatest  of  evils."  M.  Faugere 
found  this  text  in  the  note-book  of  the  physi  ?ian  Valiant.  This  note-book, 
tntitled  Pens&t  de  M.  Pascal,  is  preserved  ii.  the  Bibliotheque  Irape'rlale. 


208  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

be  told  that  we  reason  ill,  or  make  a  bad  choice.  Whnt  causes 
this  is,  that  we  are  very  sure  that  we  have  not  a  headache,  and 
that  we  are  not  lame  :  but  we  are  not  so  certain  that  we  have 
made  a  true  choice.  So  that,  having  no  other  ground  of  cer 
tainty  than  that  we  see  it  with  our  whole  sight,  when  another 
sees  the  contrary  with  his  whole  sight,  this  puts  us  in  suspense 
and  astonishes  us,  and  still  more  when  a  thousand  others  laugh 
at  our  choice ;  for  we  must  prefer  our  intelligence  to  that  of  so 
many  others,  and  this  is  bold  and  difficult.  There  is  never 
this  contradiction  in  the  senses  respecting  a  cripple. 

XI. 

Respect  is,1  Incommode  yourself.  This  is  vain  in  appear- 
ance, but  very  just ;  for  it  is  saying  :  I  would  willingly  incom- 
mode myself  if  you  were  in  need  of  it,  for  I  do  so  when  it  can 
do  you  no  service.  Besides  this,  respect  is  the  mark  by  which 
we  distinguish  the  great :  now,  if  respect  were  to  cost  us  no 
trouble,  we  should  respect  everybody,  and  thus  make  no  dis- 
tinctions :  but  being  incommoded,  we  make  these  distinctions 
very  well. 

XII. 

Opinions  of  the  people  sound. — To  be  we'l  dressed  is  not 
over  vain ;  for  it  is  showing  that  a  great  number  of  people  labor 
for  you ;  it  is  showing  by  the  hair  that  one  has  a  valet-de- 
chambre,  a  perfumer,  etc. ;  by  the  band,  frill,  lace,  etc. 

Now  it  is  not  simply  superficial,  nor  mere  harness,  to  have 
neveral  arms.  The  more  arms  one  has,  the  stronger  he  is.  To 
be  well  dressed  is  to  show  one's  force. 

XIII. 

Reason  of  effects. — This  is  marvellous  :  one  would  not  have 
me  honor  a  man  clothed  in  silk,  and  followed  by  seven  or  eight 
lackeys !  Indeed !  he  will  have  the  lash  applied  to  me,  if  I  do 


1  That  is,   "In  order  to  testify  our  deference  towards  a  person,  it  i» 
lecessary  to  incommode  ourselves,  to  put  ourselves  to  trouble  for  him." 


CHAPTER   VI.  20U 

not  salute  him.  This  custom  is  a  compulsion.  It  is  quite  the 
same  as  a  well-caparisoned  horse,  in  comparison  with  another ! 
Montaigne  is  ridiculous  in  not  seeing  what  difference  there  is,  in 
wondering  that  any  is  found,  and  in  asking  the  cause  of  it.  In 
truth,  says  he,  whence  comes  .... 

XIV. 

The  people  have  very  sound  opinions  ;  for  example :  1°.  In 
having  chosen  amusement  and  the  chase  rather  than  poetry. 
The  half-learned  ridicule  their  choice,  and  triumph  in  showing 
therein  the  world's  folly  ;  but,  by  a  reason  that  they  do  not 
penetrate,  the  people  are  right.  2°.  In  having  distinguished 
men  by  externals,  as  nobility  or  property  :  the  world  triumphs 
again  in  showing  how  unreasonable  this  is;  but  this  is  verj 
reasonable.  3°.  In  being  offended  at  receiving  a  blow,  or  desir- 
ing glory  so  much.  But  this  is  very  desirable,  on  account  of 
other  essential  goods  that  are  connected  with  it.  And  a  man 
who  has  received  a  blow  without  resenting  it,  is  overwhelmed 
with  abuse  and  necessities.  4°.  In  laboring  for  the  uncertain ; 
going  tp  sea ;  crossing  on  a  plank. 

XV. 

A  great  advantage  is  rank  which,  at  eighteen  or  twenty 
puts  a  man  under  way,  makes  him  known  and  respected,  as 
another  might  have  merited  at  fifty  :  it  is  thirty  years  gained 
without  trouble. 

XVI. 

Have  you  never  seen  people  who,  by  way  of  complaining  of 
the  little  regard  you  have  for  them,  parade  the  example  of 
people  of  quality  who  esteem  them  ?  I  would  answer  them 
hus :  Show  me  the  merit  by  which  you  have  charmed  these 
persons,  and  I  will  esteem  you  the  same. 

XVII. 

A  man  who  stations  himself  at  the  window  to  see  the 
passers-by, — if  I  pass  that  way,  can  I  say  that  he  stationed 
himself  there  to  see  me  ?  No  ;  for  he  does  not  think  of  me  in 


.210  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

particular.  But  he  who  loves  a  person  on  account  of  that  per- 
son's beauty,  does  he  love  the  person?  No;  for  the  small- 
pox, which  kills  the  beauty  without  killing  the  person,  wih 
destroy  the  love.  And  if  one  loves  me  for  my  judgment,  for 
my  memory,  does  he  love  me  ?  No ;  for  I  may  lose  those 
faculties  without  losing  myself.  Where,  then,  is  this  ME,  if  it 
is  neither  in  the  body  nor  in  the  soul ;  and  how  love  the  body 
or  the  soul,  except  for  these  endowments,  which  are  not  what 
constitute  the  ME,  since  they  are  perishable  ?  For  could  we 
love  the  substance  of  a  person's  soul  abstractly,  and  without 
reference  to  its  qualities  ?  This  is  impossible,  and  would  be 
unjust.  One  never  loves  the  person,  then,  but  only  the  quali- 
ties. Let  us,  then,  no  longer  ridicule  those  who  claim  honor 
for  their  place  and  office,  for  we  love  no  one  but  for  adventi- 
tious qualities. 

xvm. 

Things  that  influence  us  most,  as  concealing  the  smallness 
of  our  possessions,  are  often  scarcely  any  thing.  It  is  a  noth- 
ing that  our  imaginatiop  magnifies  into  a  mountain.  Another 
turn  of  the  imagination  enables  us  to  discover  it  without  trouble, 

XTX. 

...  It  is  the  effect  of  force,  not  of  custom ;  for  those  who  aro 
capable  of  invention  are  rare ;  the  stronger  in  number  wish 
only  to  follow,  and  refuse  glory  to  those  inventors  who  seek  it 
by  their  inventions.  And  if  they  are  obstinate  in  wishing  to 
obtain  it,  and  despise  those  who  do  not  invent,  others  will  give 
them  ridiculous  names,  would  give  them  blows  with  a  stick. 
Let  no  one  pique  himself,  then,  on  account  of  this  inventive 
vibtilily,  or  let  him  be  contented  in  himself. 


CHAPTER   Vn  211 


CHAPTER   VII. 

[ON   INEQUALITY   OF   CONDITIONS,  LAWS,   JUSTICE,    FOECE,   POLITICAL 
POWER.] 


Mine,  thine. — That  dog  is  mine,  said  those  poor  children ; 
that  place  in  the  sun  is  mine.  Such  is  the  beginning  and 
type  of  usurpation  throughout  the  earth. 

II. 

It  is  necessary  that  there  be  inequality  among  men ;  this  is 
true ;  but  this  being  granted,  we  see  the  door  opened  not  only 
to  the  highest  domination,  but  to  the  highest  tyranny.  It  is 
necessary  to  relax  the  mind  somewhat ;  but  this  opens  the  door 
to  the  greatest  excesses.  Let  us  mark  the  limits  of  these 
things.  There  are  no  limits  in  things  themselves ;  laws  en- 
deavor to  fix  such  limits,  and  the  mind  cannot  endure  them. 

III. 

Reason  commands  us  much  more  imperiously  than  a  master ; 
for  in  disobeying  the  one  we  are  unhappy,  and  in  disobeying 
the  other  we  are  foolish. 

IV. 

Wherefore  do  you  kill  me  ?  What !  do  you  not  dwell  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  water  ?  My^  friend,  if  you  dwelt  on 
thi*  side,  I  should  be  an  assassin,  it  would  be  unjust  to  kill 
you  thus ;  but  since  you  dwell  on  the  other  side,  I  am  courage- 
ous, and  it  is  just. 

V. 

Justice. — As  fashion  makes  attraction,  even  so  it  makes 
ustice. 


212  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

VI. 

Justice  is  what  is  established ;  and  thus,  all  our  establish  cu 
laws  will  be  regarded  as  just,  without  being  examined,  since 
they  are  established. 

VII. 

The  only  universal  rules  are  the  laws  of  a  country  for  ordi- 
nary things ;  and  the  majority  for  others.  Whence  comes 
this  ?  From  the  force  there  is  in  them. 

Hence  it  comes  that  kings,  who  have  force  from  other 
Rources,  do  not  follow  the  majority  of  their  ministers. 

^[  Doubtless  equality  of  goods  is  just;1  but  men,  not  being 
able  to  make  force  obedient  to  justice,  have  made  justice  obedi- 
ent to  force  ;  and  not  being  able  to  fortify  justice,  have  justi- 
fied force,  to  the  end  that  justice  and  force  might  be  together, 
and  that  peace  might  be  attained,  which  is  the  sovereign  good. 

VIII. 

Summumjus,  summa  injuria. — The  majority  is  the  bettei 
way,  because  it  is  palpable,  and  has  the  force  to  make  itself 
obeyed  ;  yet  it  is  the  opinion  of  the  less  capable. 

If  it  had  been  possible,  force  would  have  been  put  in  the 
hands  of  justice ;  but  as  force  does  not  allow  itself  to  be  man- 
aged as  we  like,  since  it  is  a  palpable  quality,  while  justice  is  a 
spiritual  quality,  of  which  we  dispose  as  we  wish,  justice  has 
been  put  in  the  hands  of  force,  and  thus  we  call  just  what  we 
are  forced  to  observe. 


1  Nothing  is  falser,  I  do  not  simply  say  more  impracticable,  but  more 
unjust  in  itself,  than  equality  of  goods.  This  is  not  the  true  equality. 
All  men  have  an  equal  right  to  the  free  development  of  their  faculties ; 
they  have  an  equal  right  to  the  impartial  protection  of  that  sovereign  jus- 
tice which  is  called  the  State  ;  but  it  is  not  true,  it  is  against  all  the  law* 
of  reason  and  equity,  it  is  against  the  eternal  nature  of  things,  that  the 
'indolent  man  and  the  laborious  man,  the  spendthrift  and  the  economist, 
Ihe  imprudent  and  the  wise,  should  obtain  and  preserve  an  equal  amount 
of  goods. — 


CHAPTER   VH.  213 

Hence  comes  the  right  of  the  sword,  for  the  sword  gives  a 
veritable  right 

Otherwise,  we  should  see  violence  on  the  one  side,  and  jus- 
tice on  the  other. 

Hence  comes  the  injustice  of  the  Fronde,  which  sets  up  its 
pretended  justice  against  force. 

It  is  not  the  same  in  the  Church ;  for  there  is  a  veritable 
justice,  and  no  violence. 

IX. 

The  cords  that  bind  the  respect  of  some  towards  others,  in 
general,  are  cords  of  necessity  ;  for  there  must  be  different  de- 
grees, all  men  wishing  to  rule,  and  all  not  being  able  to  do  it, 
but  some  being  able. 

Let  us  imagine  then  that  we  are  witnessing  the  commence- 
ment of  the  formation  of  society.  It  is  indubitable  that  there 
would  be  a  general  conflict  till  the  stronger  oppress  the  weaker, 
till,  in  short,  there  is  a  dominant  party.  But  when  this  is  once 
determined,  then  the  masters,  who  do  not  wish  that  war  should 
continue,  ordain  that  the  power  which  is  in  their  hands  shall 
be  transmitted  as  they  please ;  some  remitting  it  to  the  election 
of  the  people,  others  to  the  succession  of  birth,  etc. 

And  here  the  imagination  begins  to  play  its  part.  Hitherto 
force  controls  the  fact :  here  power  is  held  by  the  imagination 
in  a  certain  party,  the  party  of  gentlemen  in  France,  of  plebe- 
ians in  Switzerland,  etc. 

These  cords,  then,  that  bind  respect  to  such  or  such  a  clasa 
in  particular,  are  cords  of  the  imagination. 

X. 

Justice,  force. — It  is  just  that  what  is  just  be  followed.  It  is 
necessary  that  what  is  strongest  be  followed.  Justice  without 
force  is  powerless  :  force  without  justice  is  tyrannical.  Justice 
without  force  is  contradicted,  because  there  are  always  men 
criminally  inclined :  force  without  justice  is  accused.  It  is 
ierefore  necessary  to  put  justice  and  force  together;  and  for 


214  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

this  end  to  make  what  is  just  strong,  and  what  is  strong 
mst. 

Justice  is  subject  to  dispute :  force  is  very  recognizable  and 
without  dispute.  Thus  men  have  not  been  able  to  give  force 
to  justice,  because  force  has  contradicted  justice  and  has  said 
that  she  was  unjust,  and  has  said  that  it  was  she  herself  who 
was  just :  and  thus,  not  being  able  to  make  what  is  just  strong, 
men  have  made  what  is  strong  just.1 

XL 

When  there  is  a  question  of  judging  whether  we  ought  to 
make  war  and  kill  so  many  men,  to  condemn  so  many  Span- 
iards to  death,  it  is  one  man  alone  who  judges,  and  even  he  is 
interested :  it  should  be  a  disinterested  third  party. 

xn. 

As  duchies,  and  royalties,  and  magistracies  are  real  and 
necessary,  because  force  rules  every  thing,  there  are  such  every- 
where and  always ;  but  since  the  existence  of  such  or  such  a 
one  depends  upon  fancy  alone,  it  is  not  constant,  but  subject 
to  variation. 

xm. 

Tyranny. — Hence  the  following  remarks  are  false  and  tyran- 
nical :  I  am  beautiful,  therefore  people  ought  to  fear  me ;  I  am 
powerful,  therefore  people  ought  to  love  me ;  I  am  ....  Tyr- 
anny is  the  desire  of  having  by  one  means  what  we  can  have 
only  by  another.  We  render  different  duties  to  different 
merits :  the  duty  of  love  to  attraction ;  the  duty  of  fear  to 


1  Pascal  appears  here  to  approach  the  ideas  of  Hobbes,  and  the  greatest 
devotee  among  the  philosophers  of  this  century,  is,  on  the  nature  of  justice 
»nd  injustice,  of  the  same  opinion  as  the  most  irreligious. — C&ndorcet. 

—  In  attacking  Hobbes  and  his  adherents  the  Christian  does  not  con- 
bund  himself  with  them.  Rigorously  admitting  the  same  overwhelming 
£act,  he  admits  it  only  for  fallen  man,  and  deduces  from  it  but  a  stronget 
"eason  for  pressing  ever  on  to  deliverance. — Saintt-Beuve. 


CHAPTER  vn  215 

force;  the  duty  of  belief  to  science.  We  ought  to  render 
these  duties ;  we  are  unjust  in  refusing  them,  and  unjust  in 
demanding  them  from  others.  It  is  equally  false  and  tyranni- 
cal to  say :  He  is  not  strong,  therefore  I  will  not  esteem  him  ; 
be  is  not  capable,  therefore  I  will  not  fear  him. 


-it>  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

[ON  DIFFERENT  SUBJECTS  OF  ETHICS.] 

Pyrrhonism. — An  extreme  measure  of  intelligence  is  accuse- \ 
of  folly,  as  well  as  extreme  deficiency.  Nothing  but  medioc- 
rity is  good.  The  generality  have  laid  down  this  rule,  and 
carp  at  whoever  deviates  from  it  into  either  extreme.  I  shall 
not  insist  upon  it,  for  my  part ;  I  shall  readily  consent  to  be 
thus  limited,  and  refuse  to  be  of  the  lower  extreme,  not  because 
it  is  low,  but  because  it  is  the  extreme ;  for  I  would  refuse  to 
be  placed  even  at  the  higher  extreme.  It  is  quitting  humanity 
to  quit  the  mean  course :  the  greatness  of  the  human  soul 
consists  in  knowing  how  to  keep  in  it ;  so  far  is  greatness  from 
consisting  in  quitting  it,  that  it  consists  in  not  quitting  it  at  all. 

II. 

One  does  not  get  credit  in  the  world  for  talent  in  poetry,  if 
he  has  not  hung  out  his  sign  of  poet,  of  mathematician,*  etc. 
But  universal  people  wish  no  sign,  and  make  but  little  differ- 
ence between  the  trade  of  a  poet  and  that  of  an  embroiderer. 


>  Pascal  pursues  in  this  chapter  the  ideas  developed  in  the  preceding 
chapter,  to  wit,  that  the  human  mind  abandoned  to  its  own  light  offers 
only  darkness  and  contradiction,  that  most  opinions  in  the  world  are  erro- 
neous, and  that  man  is  almost  always  astray  from  truth,  when  he  is  out  ot 
faith. 

*  The  MS.  gives  a  second  version  of  this  thought,  as  follows:  "  There 
should  be  no  occasion  to  say,  He  is  a  mathematician,  a  preacher,  eloquent ; 
but,  He  is  an  konegt  man.  This  universal  quality  alone  pleases  me.  It  is 
a  bad  sign  when,  on  seeing  a  man,  we  are  reminded  of  his  book  ;  I  would 
that  no  quality  should  be  perceived  but  by  the  encounter  and  occasion  of 
its  use.  Ne  quid  nimw,  lest  he  be  carried  away  by  a  quality,  and  b« 
christened  with  its  name.  Let  it  not  be  thought  that  he  speaks  well,  ex 
eept  when  there  is  a  question  of  speaking  well,  then  let  us  be  reminded  ol 
t  to  some  purpose." 


CHAPTER  vrn.  217 

Universal  people  are  called  neither  poets  nor  geometers,  etc. ; 
but  they  are  all  that,  and  judge  of  all  those.  One  does  not 
divine  them.  They  will  speak  of  what  one  is  speaking  when 
they  entered.  Men  do  not  perceive  in  them  one  quality  rather 
than  another,  except  as  necessity  calls  it  forth ;  but  they  are 
then  equal  to  the  occasion :  for  it  is  all  the  same  with  such 
characters  that  it  should  not  be  said  of  them  that  they  speak 
well,  when  there  is  no  question  of  language ;  and  that  it  should 
be  said  of  them  that  they  speak  well,  when  there  is  a  question 
of  it.  It  is  therefore  a  false  praise  that  is  given  a  man  when  it 
is  said  of  him,  as  he  comes  in,  that  he  is  very  capable  in  poetry  ; 
and  it  is  a  bad  indication,  when  we  have  not  recourse  to  a 
man  when  judging  verses  is  the  question. 

III. 

Man  is  full  of  needs :  he  loves  only  those  that  can  supply 
them.  This  is  a  good  mathematician,  it  will  be  said.  But  I 
have  nothing  to  do  with  mathematics ;  he  would  take  me  for 
a  proposition.  This  is  a  good  warrior.  He  would  take  me 
for  a  place  besieged.  An  honest  man  is  requisite,  then,  who 
could  accommodate  himself  to  all  my  needs  in  general. 

IV. 

When  we  are  well,  we  wonder  how  we  should  act  if  we  wera 
sick;  when  we  are  sick,  we  take  medicine  cheerfully.  The 
disease  brings  us  to  this  resolution.  We  have  no  longer  the 
passion  and  desire  for  amusements  and  promenades,  which 
health  gave,  and  which  are  incompatible  with  the  exigencies 
of  the  disease.  Nature,  then,  gives  passions  and  desires,  coo- 
formed  to  the  present  state.  It  is  only  the  fears  that  originate 
with  ourselves,  and  not  with  nature,  that  trouble  us ;  for  they 
join  to  the  state  in  which  we  are  the  passions  of  the  state  in 
which  we  are  not. 

V. 

Discourses  of  humility  are  matter  of  pride  to  the  proud,  and 
of  humility  to  the  humble.  Thus  discourses  of  Pyrrhonism 

10 


218  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

are  matter  of  affirmation  to  the  affirming.  Few  speak  of  hu- 
mility humbly ;  few  of  chastity,  chastely  ;  few  of  Pyrrhonism, 
doubtiugly.  We  are  only  falsehood,  duplicity,  contradiction, 
and  we  conceal  and  disguise  to  ourselves. 

VI. 

Good  actions  concealed  are  the  most  estimable.  When  1 
discover  such  in  history,  they  please  me  much.  But,  in  short 
they  have  not  been  wholly  concealed  since  they  have  been 
recorded  :  and  although  every  thing  possible  has  been  done  to 
conceal  them,  the  little  whereby  they  have  come  to  light 
spoils  all ;  for  the  finest  thing  about  them,  is  the  wish  to  con- 
ceal them. 

VII. 

Sayer  of  Ions  mots,  bad  character. 

VIII. 

The  ME  is  hateful :  you,  Miton,1  cover  it,  you  do  not  thereby 
renounce  it ;  you  are  therefore  always  hateful. — By  no  means, 
[you  say],  for  in  acting,  as  we  do,  obligingly  towards  all  men, 
they  have  no  longer  cause  to  hate  us. — That  is  true,  if  we 
hated  in  the  ME  only  the  displeasure  that  comes  to  us  from  it. 
But  if  I  hate  it  because  it  is  unjust,  because  it  makes  itselt 
the  centre  of  every  thing,  I  shall  hate  it  always.  In  a  word, 
the  ME  has  two  qualities  :  it  is  unjust  in  itself,  in  that  it  makes 
itself  the  centre  of  every  thing  ;  it  is  troublesome  to  others, 
because  it  wishes  to  bring  them  into  subjection  :  for  each  MB 
is  the  enemy,  and  would  be  the  tyrant  of  all  others.  You 
take,  away  the  annoyance  arising  from  it,  but  not  the  injus 
tice ;  and  thus  you  do  not  make  it  acceptable  to  those  who 
hate  the  injustice :  you  make  it  acceptable  only  to  the  unjust, 


1  Miton  was  a  fashionable  man,  friend  of  the  Chevalier  de  Mere,  by 
whom  he  appears  to  have  been  brought  into  relation  with  Pascal.— Hav*. 


CHAPTER  vm.  219 

who  no  longer  find  in  it  their  enemy ;  and  thus  ycu  remain 
unjust,  and  can  please  only  the  unjust 

IX. 

I  do  not  admire  excess  of  one  virtue,  as  of  valor,  if  I  d<. 
not  discover  at  the  same  time  excess  of  the  opposite  virtue,  as 
iu  Epaminondas,  who  had  extreme  valor  and  extreme  benignity ; 
for  otherwise  it  is  not  exalting,  but  debasing.  One  does  not 
show  his  greatness  by  being  at  one  extreme,  but  in  touching 
both  extremes  at  once,  and  filling  all  the  intermediate  space. 
But  it  may  be  that  this  is  only  a  sudden  movement  of  the 
soul  from  one  of  these  extremes  to  the  other,  and  that  the 
soul  is  never,  in  fact,  in  but  one  point,  like  a  fire-brand  [whirled 
around].  It  may  be  so,  but  this  at  least  indicates  the  agility 
of  the  soul,  if  it  does  not  indicate  its  extent 


In  omnibus  requiem  qucesivi. — If  our  condition  were  really 
happy,  it  would  not  be  necessary  to  divert  us  from  thinking  of 
it  in  order  to  make  us  happy. 

^[  A  little  consoles  us,  because  a  little  afflicts  us. 

^[  We  are  so  unhappy  that  we  can  take  pleasure  in  a  thing 
only  on  condition  of  being  vexed  if  it  turn  out  ill ;  which 
may  be  the  case,  and  is  the  case,  with  a  thousand  things,  at 
every  hour.  Whoever  should  find  the  secret  of  being  rejoiced 
at  good  without  being  vexed  at  the  opposite  evil,  would  find 
the  point.  It  is  perpetual  motion. 

XI. 

I  spent  much  time  in  the  study  of  abstract  sciences;  and 
the  little  communication  that  we  can  have  on  such  subjects 
disgusted  me  with  them.  When  I  began  the  study  of  man, 
I  perceived  that  these  abstract  sciences  are  not  suited  to  him, 
and  that  I  should  wander  farther  from  my  condition  by  ad- 
vancing in  them  than  others  by  remaining  in  ignorance  of 
them;  and  I  pardoned  others  ior  Avowing  little  of  them. 


220  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

But  I  expected  to  find  at  least  many  companions  in  the  study 
of  man,  and  that  this  is  the  true  study  which  is  suited  to  him- 
I  was  deceived.  There  are  still  fewer  who  study  man  than 
who  study  geometry.  It  is  only  because  we  know  not  how 
to  study  man  that  we  seek  any  other  subjects  of  study.  But 
is  it  not  true  that  this  is  not  yet  the  science  that  man  ought  to 
have,  and  that  it  is  better  for  him  to  be  ignorant  of  it  in  order 
to  be  happy  ? 

XII. 

When  every  thing  moves  equally,  nothing  moves  appa- 
rently :  as  on  a  ship.  When  all  things  go  towards  disorder, 
nothing  seems  to  go  thither.  He  who  stops,  causes,  like  a 
fixed  point,  the  recession  of  others  to  be  remarked. 

xni. 

Order. — Why  should  I  assume  in  my  ethics  a  fourfold 
rather  than  a  sixfold  division  ?  Why  should  I  rather  estab- 
lish virtue  into  four  sorts,  two  sorts,  one  sort  1  Why  into 
Abstine  and  sustine,  rather  than  into  Follow  nature,  or,  Pay 
attention  to  your  own  particular  affairs  without'  injustice,  like 
Plato,  or  any  thing  else  ?  But,  you  will  say,  every  thing  is 
here  reduced  to  a  single  word.  Yes,  but  that  is  useless,  if  it  is 
not  explained ;  and  when  we  come  to  explain  it,  as  soon  as  we 
develop  this  precept  which  contains  all  the  others,  they  issue 
in  the  same  confusion  that  you  at  first  wish  to  avoid.  Thus, 
when  they  are  all  contained  in  one,  they  are  hidden  in  it  and 
useless,  as  in  a  box,  and  never  appear  but  in  their  natural  con- 
fusion. Nature  has  established  them  all  without  including 
one  in  the  other. 

^[  Nature  has  put  all  these  truths  each  in  itself.  Our  art 
includes  some  in  others,  but  this  is  n  >t  natural.  Each  holds 
its  place. 

XIV 

When  we  wish  to  reprove  with  profit,  and  show  another 
that  he  is  mistaken,  we  must  observe  on  what  side  he  look* 


CHAPTER  vm.  22  \ 

at  the  thing,  for  it  is  usually  true  on  that  side,  and  to  admit 
to  him  that  truth,  but  to  discover  to  him  the  side  whereon  it 
it  is  false.  He  is  pleased  with  this,  for  he  perceives  that  he 
was  not  mistaken,  and  that  he  only  failed  to  look  on  all  sides. 
Now,  one  is  not  vexed  at  not  seeing  every  thing.  But  one  does 
not  like  to  be  mistaken ;  and  perhaps  this  arises  from  the  fact 
that  man  naturally  cannot  see  every  thing,  and  that  naturally 
he  cannot  be  deceived  in  regard  to  the  side  that  he  looks  at ; 
as  the  apprehensions  of  the  senses  are  always  true. 

XV. 

The  power  of  a  man's  virtue  should  not  be  measured  by  his 
special  efforts,  but  by  his  ordinary  doing. 

XVI. 

Great  and  small  have  the  same  accidents,  and  the  same 
vexations,  and  the  same  passions ;  but  one  is  at  the  circum- 
ference of  the  wheel,  and  the  other  near  the  centre,  and  thus 
less  agitated  by  the  same  movements. 

XVII. 

Although  persons  may  have  no  interest  in  what  they  are 
eaying,  we  must  not  thence  conclude  absolutely  that  they  are 
uot  lying ;  for  there  are  people  who  lie  simply  for  the  sake  of 
lying. 

XVIII. 

The  example  of  Alexander's  chastity  has  not  made  so  many 
continent  as  that  of  his  drunkenness  "has  made  intemperate 
It  is  not  shameful  not  to  be  as  virtuous  as  he,  and  it  seem 
excusable  to  be  no  more  vicious  than  he.  One  thinks  he  is 
not  altogether  in  the  vices  of  the  crowd  of  men,  and  he  per- 
ceives himself  in  the  vices  of  these  great  men ;  and  yet  he 
does  not  remember  that  in  th;s  respect  they  are  of  the  crowd. 
He  is  connected  with  them  by  the  same  extreme  whereby 


222  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

they  are  connected  with  the  people;  for,  however  elevated 
they  may  be,  yet  are  they  united  with  the  least  of  men  at 
some  point.  They  are  not  suspended  in  the  air,  wholly  ab- 
stracted from  our  society.  No,  no ;  if  they  are  greater  than 
we,  it  is  because  their  heads  are  higher  ;  but  their  feet  are  as 
low  as  ours.  They  are  all  on  the  same  level,  in  this  respect, 
and  stand  on  the  same  earth ;  and  by  this  extreme  they  are 
as  abased  as  we,  as  the  smallest,  as  children,  as  brutes. 

XIX. 

The  combat  alone  pleases  us,  not  the  victory.  We  love  to 
see  the  combats  of  animals,  not  the  vanquisher  let  loose  on 
the  vanquished.  What  would  we  see  but  the  crisis  of  victory  ? 
And  as  soon  as  it  comes,  we  are  satisfied.  Thus  in  play,  thus 
in  the  search  after  truth.  We  like  to  see  in  disputes  the  com- 
bat of  opinions ;  but  to  contemplate  truth  discovered,  not  at 
all.  To  remark  it  with  pleasure,  we  must  see  it  emerging 
from  dispute.  Just  so  in  the  passions,  there  is  a  pleasure  in 
seeing  two  contending  passions  in  conflict ;  but  when  one  is 
mistress,  it  is  no  longer  any  thing  but  brutality.  We  never 
peek  things,  but  the  search  after  them.  Thus,  in  the  drama, 
tranquil  scenes  without  fear  are  worthless;  just  so,  extreme 
miseries  without  hope,  brutal  loves,  and  harsh  severities. 


XX. 

Men  are  not  taught  to  be  honest,  but  they  are  taught  every 
thing  else ;  and  they  never  pique  themselves  so  much  on  know- 
ing any  thing  else,  as  on  knowing  how  to  be  honest  men. 
They  pique  themselves  on  knowing  the  only  thing  they  do  not 
learn. 

XXI. 

Preface  of  the  first  part. —  ...  To  speak  of  those  who  have 
treated  of  the  knowledge  of  self,  of  the  divisions  of  Charon, 
which  sadden  and  weary,  of  the  confusion  of  Montaigne ;  tha 


CHAPTEK  vm.  223 

he  had  very  sensibly  felt  the  defect  of  strictness  of  method, 
that  he  shunned  it  by  leaping  from  topic  to  topic,  that  he 
sought  an  aristocratic  air.  The  foolish  project  that  he  has  of 
painting  himself!  and  this  not  incidentally,  and  contrary  to 
his  maxims,  as  shortcoming  happens  to  everybody ;  but  by  his 
own  maxims,  and  by  his  first  and  principal  design.  For  to 
utter  follies  by  hazard  and  weakness  is  a  common  ill ;  but  to 
utter  them  by  design  is  insufferable.1 

XXII. 

To  pity  the  unhappy  is  not  contrary  to  selfish  desire ;  on 
he  other  hand,  we  are  glad  of  the  occasion  to  thus  testify 
friendship,  and  attract  to  ourselves  the  reputation  of  tender- 
ness, without  giving  any  thing. 

xxm. 

Would  he  who  possessed  the  friendship  of  the  King  of  Eng- 
land, of  the  King  of  Poland,  and  of  the  Queen  of  Sweden,9 
have  believed  it  possible  that  he  might  be  without  a  retreat 
and  an  asylum  in  the  world  ? 

XXIV. 

Inconstancy. — Things  have  different  qualities,  and  the  soul 
has  different  inclinations :  for  nothing  of  what  is  offered  to  the 
soul  is  simple,  and  the  soul  never  offers  itself  simple  to  any 
bubject.  Hence  it  comes  that  we  sometimes  weep  and  laugh 
on  account  of  the  same  thing. 

1  Aftei  "  is  insufferable,"  we  read  in  the  MS. :  "  and  to  say  such  as 
these  . . . ."  Pascal  not  having  finished  this  phrase,  wo  have  thrown 
into  a  note  these  last  words,  which  leive  *.he  paragraph  in  an  unfinished 
Btate. 

1  Keference  is  here  made  to  Charles  i,  who  died  on  the  scaffold,  in  1649  ; 
to  John  Casimir,  who,  for  a  time,  was  expelled  from  his  kingdom,  in  1656 
by  the  king  of  Sweden,  Charles  Gustavus;  and  to  queen  Christina,  wh« 
tbdicated  in  1654 


224:  PA80AL.-T-  THOUGHTS. 

XXV. 

Ferox  gens,  nullam  esse  vitam  sine  armis  rati.1 — They  prefer 
death  to  peace ;  others  prefer  death  to  war.  Every  opinion 
may  be  preferable  to  life,  the  love  of  which  appears  so  strong 
and  so  natural. 

XXVI. 

How  difficult  it  is  to  propose  a  thing  for  the  judgment  of 
another,  without  corrupting  his  judgment  by  the  manner  of 
proposing  it  to  him !  If  it  is  said  :  I  find  it  beautiful,  I  find 
it  obscure,  or  something  else  similar,  imagination  is  enlisted 
in  favor  of  this  judgment,  or  irritated  to  opposition.  It  is  bet- 
ter to  say  nothing,  and  then  he  judges  according  to  what  it 
is,  that  is,  according  to  what  it  is  then,  and  according  as  the 
other  circumstances  over  which  we  have  no  control  may  influ- 
ence him  ;  but  at  least  we  shall  not  influence  him,  unless  our 
silence  has  its  effect,  according  to  the  interpretation  which  he 
is  in  the  humor  to  give  it,  or  according  to  his  conjectures  from 
the  expression  of  the  countenance,  or  from  the  tone  of  voice, 
according  as  he  is  a  physiognomist;  so  difficult  is  it  not  to 
bias  a  judgment  from  its  natural  conclusion,  or  rather,  so  few 
there  are  firm  and  stable ! 

XXVIL 

Vanity  of  the  sciences. — The  science  of  external  things  will 
console  me  for  ignorance  of  ethics  in  times  of  affliction  ;  but 
the  science  of  morals  will  always  console  me  for  ignorance  of 
external  sciences. 

XXVIII. 

Time  cures  griefs  and  strifes,  because  one  changes,  and  is 
no  longer  the  same  person.  Neither  the  offending  nor  the 
offended  remains  the  same.  It  is  like  a  nation  irritated  an<i 

1  Livy,  xxxiv,  17. 


CHAPTER   VIII.  225 

revisited  after  two  generations.    They  are  still  the  French,  but 
Dot  the  same. 

XXTXT 

Condition  of  man :  inconstancy,  weariness,  disquiet. 

•[[  Whoever  would  fully  know  the  vanity J  of  man,  has  only 
to  consider  the  causes  and  effects  of  love.  The  cause  of  it  is 
"  an  I-know-not-what ;"  and  its  effects  are  frightful.  This 
"  I-know-not-what,"  so  insignificant  a  thing  that  we  can  scarcely 
recognize  it,  moves  the  whole  earth,  princes,  armies,  the  entire 
world.  If  the  nose  of  Cleopatra  had  been  shorter,  the  whole 
face  of  the  earth  would  have  been  changed.2 

XXX. 

Caesar  was  too  old,  it  seems  to  me,  to  amuse  himself  with 
conquering  the  world.  This  amusement  was  well  enough  for 
Augustus  or  Alexander ;  they  were  young  people  whom  it  is 
difficult  to  stop  ;  but  Caesar  ought  to  have  been  more  mature. 

XXXT. 

The  feeling  of  the  falseness  of  present  pleasures,  and  the  ig- 
norance of  the  vanity  of  absent  pleasures,  cause  inconstancy. 

XXXII. 

Continued  eloquence  wearies. 

Princes  and  kings  sometimes  play.  They  are  not  always  on 
their  thrones ;  they  become  tired  of  it.  Greatness  needs  to  be 
abandoned  in  order  to  be  felt.  Continuity  disgusts  in  every 
thing.  Cold  is  agreeable  for  the  sake  of  warming  ourselves. 


>  Vanity  in  the  sense  of  nothingness,  weakness. 

*  The  thought  on  the  effects  of  love,  and  on  Cleopatra's  nose,  has  been 
reproduced  three  times.  First  draught:  "(As  a  title).  Vanity.  The 
pauses  and  the  effects  of  love.  Cleopatra."  Second  draught :  "  Nothing 
ihows  better  the  vanity  of  men  than  to  consider  the  cause  and  the  effects 
Dflove;  for  the  whole  universe  is  changed  by  it :  Cleopatra's  nose."  Thia 
•econd  draught  was  erased  by  Pascal's  own  hand. —  Cousin. 

10° 


226  PASCAL. THC  UQHT8. 

XXXIII. 

Lustravit  lampade  terra?  The  weather  and  my  kumort 
have  little  connection.1 — My  Iramor  depends  but  little  on  the 
weather :  I  have  my  fogs  and  my  fair  weather  within  me.  The 
good  and  ill  of  my  affairs  even  make  but  little  difference :  I 
sometimes  rouse  myself  against  fortune ;  the  glory  of  overcom- 
ing it  makes  me  overcome  it  gayly ;  while  I  sometimes  feel 
disgust  in  good  fortune. 

XXXIV. 

My  thought  sometimes  escapes  me  while  I  write  it ;  but  that 
reminds  me  of  my  weakness,  which  I  am  always  forgetting ; 
and  this  instructs  me  as  much  as  my  forgotten  thought ;  for  I 
strive  only  to  know  my  nothingness. 

^[  Thought  escaped  :  I  wished  to  write  it ;  I  write,  instead, 
that  it  has  escaped  me. 

XXXV. 

It  is  an  amusing  thing  to  consider,  that  there  are  men  in 
the  world  who,  having  renounced  all  the  laws  of  God  and  na- 
ture, have  made  laws  for  themselves  which  they  strictly  obey, 
as,  for  example,  the  soldiers  of  Mohammed,  thieves,  heretics,  etc. 
And  thus  logicians  ....  It  seems  that  their  license  ought  to 
be  without  limit  or  barrier,  seeing  that  they  have  overleapt  so 
many  that  are  so  just  and  so  holy. 

XXXVI. 

"  You  are  not  polished,  excuse  me,  if  you  please."  With- 
out this  excuse,  I  should  not  have  perceived  that  any  harm  was 
done.  "  To  speak  with  deference  .  .  .  ." — There  is  nothing 
bad  but  their  excuse. 


i  Here  Pascal  responds  to  this  passage  of  Montaigne :  "  L'air  mesme  et 
la  serenite  du  cicl  nous  trpporte  quelque  mutation,  coiiime  dit  ce  vers  grec  en 
Cicero :  Tales  sunt  hominum  mentes  qvaU  pater  ipse  Jupiter  auatifera  lus* 
travit  lampade  terras."  (A  verse  translated  from  the  Odyssey,  a,  135,  an^ 
preserved  by  St.  Augustine,  de  Civitate  Dei,  v,  8.)—  ffavet. 


vra.  227 


XXXVIL 

We  always  imagine  Plato  and  Aristotle  with  the  loiig  robes 
of  pedants.  They  were  well-bred  men,  and,  like  others,  laugh- 
ing with  their  friends  :  and  when  they  diverted  themselves  in 
making  their  laws  and  politics  they  did  it  playfully.  It  was 
the  least  philosophic  and  least  serious  part  of  their  lives.  The 
most  philosophic  was  living  simply  and  tranquilly. 

If  they  wrote  politics,  it  was  to  regulate  a  hospital  of  fools. 
If  they  made  a  show  of  speaking  of  politics  as  of  something 
great,  it  was  because  they  knew  that  the  fools  to  whom  they 
were  speaking  thought  themselves  kings  and  emperors.  They 
entered  into  their  principles  in  order  to  moderate  their  folly  to 
the  least  possible  degree  of  evil. 

XXXVIH. 

Epigrams  of  Martial.  Man  loves  malignity  :  but  it  is  not 
against  the  one-eyed,  nor  against  the  unfortunate,  but  against 
the  fortunate  who  are  proud  ;  otherwise  we  are  mistaken.  For 
desire  is  the  source  of  all  our  movements,  and  humanity  .... 
It  is  necessary  to  please  those  who  have  humane  and  tender 
sentiments. 

That  on  the  two  one-eyed  '  is  worthless,  because  it  does  not 
console  them,  and  does  nothing  but  give  a  point  to  the  author's 
glory.  All  that  is  merely  for  the  author  is  worthless.  Ambi- 
tiosa  recidet  ornamenta* 

XXXIX. 

I  am  not  pleased  with  these  compliments  :  "  I  have  given 
you  much  trouble  ;"  "  I  fear  to  weary  you  ;"  "  I  fear  that  is 
too  long."  They  either  captivate  or  -they  irritate. 

XL. 

A  true  friend  is  so  advantageous  a  thing,  ever,  for  the  great- 
est lords,  in  order  that  he  may  speak  well  of  them,  and  defend 

1  Epiffram  of  Martial.—  Ed.  »  Hor.  •  de  Arttfoet.,  447. 


PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

thes*  even  in  their  absence,  that  they  should  do  every  thing 
to  get  one.  But  let  them  choose  carefully ;  for,  if  they  spend 
all  their  efforts  on  fools,  this  will  be  useless  for  them,  whatever 
good  they  may  speak  of  them :  and  they  will  not  even  speak 
well  of  them,  if  they  find  themselves  the  weaker,  for  they  have 
no  authority ;  and  thus  they  will  speak  ill  through  companion 
ship. 

XLI. 
Do  you  wish  to  be  thought  well  of?  do  not  speak  of  it. 

XLIL 

I  lay  it  down  as  a  fact  that,  if  all  men  knew  what  others  say 
of  them,  there  would  not  be  four  friends  in  the  world.  This 
appears  from  the  quarrels  to  which  indiscreet  reports  occasion- 
ally give  rise. 

XLTTT. 

Diversion. — Death  is  easier  to  bear  without  thinking  of  t, 
than  the  thought  of  death  without  peril. 

XLIV. 

Vanity. — It  is  wonderful  that  a  thing  so  obvious  as  the  van- 
ity of  the  world  is  so  little  known,  and  that  it  is  a  strange  and 
surprising  thing  to  say  that  seeking  its  honors  is  a  folly ! 

^[  Who  sees  not  the  vanity  of  the  world  is  himself  vain  indeed. 
In  fact  who  sees  it  not,  except  young  people  who  give  them- 
selves up  to  the  din  of  life,  to  diversion,  and  to  thoughts  of  the 
future  ?  But  take  away  their  diversion,  and  you  will  see  them 
wither  with  ennui ;  they  then  feel  their  nothingness  without 
knowing  it :  for  it  is  being  wretched  indeed  to  be  overwhelmed 
with  sadness  as  soon  as  we  are  reduced  to  consider  ourselves 
and  cease  to  be  diverted. 

XLV. 

Pyrrhonism. — Every  thing  here  is  true  in  pj  ft,  false  it; 
part.  Essential  truth  is  not  thus :  it  is  all  pure  and  all  true, 


CHAPTER  vra.  229 

This  mixture  dishonors  it  and  annihilates  it.  Nothing  is  purely 
true ;  and  thus  nothing  is  true,  understood  in  relation  to  pure 
truth.  It  will  be  said,  it  is  true  that  homicide  is  bad  ;  certainly, 
for  we  indeed  know  the  evil  and  the  false.  But  what  shall  we 
eay  is  good?  Celibacy?  I  say  no;  for  the  world  would  come 
to  an  end.  Marriage  ?  No ;  continence  is  better.  Not  to 
kill  ?  No  ;  for  disorders  would  be  horrible,  and  the  wicked 
would  kill  the  good.  To  kill  ?  No ;  for  that  destroys  nature. 
We  have  neither  the  true  nor  the  good  but  in  part,  and  mixed 
with  the  evil  and  the  false. 


230  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 


CHAPTEE   IX. 

[ON    DIFFERENT    KIM53    OF    MIND. — ON    REASON   AND    SENTIMENT. — VARICUi 
THOUGHTS.*] 


THE  more  mind  we  have,  the  more  original  men  do  we  dis- 
cover there  are.  Common  people  find  no  difference  between 
men. 

IL 

Different  sorts  of  right  sense ;  some  in  a  certain  order  of 
things,  and  not  in  other  orders,  wherein  they  are  extravagant. 
Some  draw  conclusions  well  from  few  principles,  and  this  is 
exactness  of  sense.  Others  draw  conclusions  well  where  there 
are  many  principles.  For  example,  some  clearly  comprehend 
the  effects  of  water,  in  which  there  are  few  principles ;  the 
conclusions  are  so  fine,  that  nothing  but  extreme  exactness  of 
mind  could  reach  them ;  and  yet  these  men  would  not  perhaps 
be  great  geometricians,  because  geometry  comprises  a  great 
number  of  principles,  and  the  nature  of  a  mind  may  be  such 
that  it  can  penetrate  well  a  few  principles  to  the  very  bottom, 
and  cannot  penetrate  in  the  least  things  containing  many 
principles. 

There  are,  then,  two  sorts  of  minds :  the  one  penetrates  rap- 
idly and  profoundly  the  consequences  of  principles,  and  this  is 
the  accurate  mind ;  the  other  comprehends  a  great  number  of 
principles  without  confounding  them,  and  this  is  the  geomet- 
rical mind.  The  one  is  force  and  exactness  of  mind,  the  other 

1  Pascal  still  continues  in  this  chapter  the  study  of  man,  directing  his 
analysis  more  particularly  to  the  intellectual  faculties, — which  naturally 
pads  him  to  speak  of  style,  of  eloquence,  of  poetic  beauty.  Those  editors 
»re  wrong,  then,  who  separate  the  literary  thoughts  from  their  connection 
with  the  rest 


CHAPTEB  IX.  231 

is  amplitude  of  mind.    Now  one  may  exist  without  the  other ; 
the  mind  may  be  strong  and  narrow,  or  wide  and  weak. 

DIFFERENCE   BETWEEN   THE  GEOMETRIC  MIND   AND   THE   ACUTE  MIND. 

^[  In  the  one,  the  principles  are  palpable,  but  remote  from 
common  usage ;  so  that  it  is  difficult  to  turn  the  attention 
in  that  direction,  through  want  of  habit :  but  so  far  as  the 
attention  is  turned  in  that  direction,  the  principles  are  fully 
Been ;  and  a  mind  wholly  false  would  be  required  to  reason  ill 
on  principles  so  obvious  that  it  is  almost  impossible  that  they 
should  escape. 

But  in  the  acute  mind,  the  principles  are  in  common  use 
and  before  the  eyes  of  everybody.  It  is  only  necessary  to 
look  in  that  direction ;  painful  attention  is  not  required.  The 
only  requisite  is  good  sight,  but  it  must  be  good ;  for  the  prin- 
ciples are  so  interwoven  and  so  many  in  number,  that  it  is 
almost  impossible  that  some  of  them  should  not  escape.  Now, 
the  omission  of  one  principle  leads  to  error :  thus,  the  sight 
must  be  very  clear  in  order  to  see  all  the  principles,  and  the 
mind  must  also  be  very  accurate  not  to  reason  falsely  on  known 
principles. 

All  geometricians  would,  therefore,  be  acute  if  they  had 
clearness  of  sight,  for  they  do  not  reason  falsely  on  the  princi- 
ples that  they  know ;  and  acute  minds  would  be  geometrical 
if  they  could  bend  their  vision  towards  the  unaccustomed  prin- 
ciples of  geometry.  • 

The  reason,  then,  why  certain  acute  minds  are  not  geometri- 
cal, is  that  they  cannot  at  all  be  directed  towards  the  princi- 
ples of  geometry ;  but  the  reason  why  geometrical  minds  aro 
not  acute,  is  that  they  do  not  see  wh*at  is  before  them ;  and 
that  being  accustomed  to  the  clear  and  palpable  principles  ol 
geometry,  and  to  reason  only  after  having  clearly  seen  and 
handled  their  principles,  they  are  lost  in  matters  of  acnteness, 
but  the  principles  do  not  allow  themselves  thus  to  be  handled  ; 
*hey  are  scarcely  seen,  they  are  rather  felt  than  seen  ;  infinite 
pains  are  required  to  make  them  felt  by  those  who  Jo  not  fee 


232  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

them  of  themselves :  they  are  things  so  delicate  and  so  numer- 
ous, that  a  very  delicate  and  very  clear  sense  is  necessary  in 
order  to  feel  them,  and  to  judge  rightly  and  exactly  according 
to  this  feeling,  -without  being  able  generally  to  demonstrate 
them  in  order  as  in  geometry,  because  these  principles  are  not 
thus  possessed,  and  because  it  would  be  an  endless  matter  to 
undertake  it.  It  is  necessary  to  see  the  matter  all  at  once  by 
a  single  glance,  and  not  by  a  process  of  reasoning,  at  least  to 
a  certain  degree.  And  thus  it  is  rare  that  geometricians  are 
acute,  and  that  the  acute  are  geometricians,  because  geometri- 
cians wish  to  treat  these  acute  matters  geometrically,  and  make 
themselves  ridiculous,  wishing  to  begin  with  definitions  and 
then  with  principles,  which  is  not  the  manner  of  procedure  in 
this  sort  of  reasoning.  Not  that  the  mind  does  not  do  this ; 
but  it  does  it  tacitly,  naturally,  and  without  art,  for  the  ex- 
pression of  it  is  beyond  all  men,  and  the  feeling  of  it  pertains 
to  but  few. 

And  acute  minds,  on  the  contrary,  thus  accustomed  to  judge 
at  a  single  glance,  are  so  astonished  when  one  presents  to  them 
propositions  in  which  they  comprehend  nothing,  and  in  order 
to  enter  into  which  they  must  pass  through  such  sterile  defini- 
tions and  principles,  which  they  have  not  been  accustomed  to 
view  thus  in  detail,  that  they  are  discouraged  and  disgusted. 
But  false  minds  are  never  either  acute  or  geometrical.  Geome- 
tricians who  are  merely  geometricians,  have  therefore  exact 
minds,  provided  all  things  are  clearly  explained  to  them  by 
definitions  and  principles ;  otherwise  they  are  false  and  insup- 
portable, for  they  are  exact  only  in  regard  to  clearly  elucidated 
principles.  And  the  acute  who  are  merely  acute,  cannot  have 
the  patience  to  descend  to  first  principles  in  matters  of  specu- 
lation and  imagination,  which  they  have  never  seen  in  the 
world,  which  are  wholly  beyond  their  experience. 

m. 

The  examples  which  we  take  to  prove  other  things,  if  we 
wish  to  prove  the  examples,  we  should  take  the  other  thingi 


CHAPTER   IX.  233 

to  be  their  examples ;  for,  as  we  always  believe  that  the  diffi- 
culty is  in  what  we  wish  to  prove,  we  find  the  examples  more 
clear,  and  they  aid  us  in  proving  it.  Thus  when  we  wish  to 
illustrate  a  general  principle,  we  must  exhibit  the  particular 
rule  of  a  case :  but  if  we  wish  to  illustrate  a  particular  case, 
we  must  begin  with  the  general  rule.  For  we  always  find  the 
thing  to  be  proved  obscure,  but  that  which  we  employ  as  the 
medium  of  proof,  clear :  for,  when  we  propose  to  prove  a  thing, 
we  are  immediately  filled  with  the  idea  that  it  is  obscure,  and, 
on  the  contrary,  that  that  which  ought  to  prove  it  is  clear,  and 
thus  we  understand  it  easily. 

IV. 

All  our  reasoning  is  compelled  to  yield  to  feeling.  But  the 
fancy  is  similar  and  contrary  to  feeling,  so  that  we  cannot  dis- 
tinguish between  these  contraries.  One  says  that  my  feeling 
is  fancy,  the  other  that  his  fancy  is  feeling.  We  must  have  a 
rule.  Reason  offers  herself,  but  she  is  pliable  in  any  direction ; 
and  thus  we  have  no  rule. 


V. 

Those  who  judge  of  a  work  by  rule,  are,  with  regard  to 
others,  as  those  who  have  a  watch,  with  regard  to  those  who 
have  not.  The  one  says :  "  It  is  two  o'clock ;"  the  other  says  : 
"  It  is  only  a  quarter  to  one."  I  look  at  my  watch ;  I  say  to 
one :  "  You  are  getting  weary ;"  and  to  the  other :  "  Time  flies 
fast  with  you ;"  for  it  is  half-past  one,  and  I  laugh  at  those 
who  say  that  the  time  lingers  with  me,  and  that  I  judge  of  it 
by  my  fancy:  they  do  not  know  that  I  judge  by  my  watch. 

VI. 

There  are  those  who  speak  well,  and  do  not  write  well. 
..t  is  because  the  place,  the  audience,  warms  them,  and  elicits 
from  their  mind  more  than  they  find  in  it  without  this 
warmth. 


234  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

vn. 

What  is  good  in  Montaigne  can  be  acquired  only  with  diffi 
culty.     What  is  bad  in  him  (I  except  his  morals)  might  have 
been  corrected  in  a  moment,  if  he  had  been  told  that  he  was 
telling  too  many  stories,  and  that  he  spoke  too  much  of  him- 
self. 

VIII. 

Miracles. — It  is  annoying  to  be  in  the  exception  to  the  rule. 
It  is  necessary  to  be  even  severe,  and  against  the  exception. 
But,  nevertheless,  as  it  is  certain  that  there  are  exceptions  to 
the  rule,  we  must  judge  them  severely,  but  justly.1 

IX. 

Let  it  not  be  said  that  I  have  said  nothing  new ;  the  dispo- 
sition of  the  matter  is  new.  When  men  play  at  tennis,  two 
play  with  the  same  ball ;  but  one  places  it  better.  I  would 
as  lieve  they  should  say  that  I  have  used  old  words.  And  as 
if  the  same  thoughts,  by  a  different  disposition,  would  not  form 
a  different  body  of  discourse,  just  as  the  same  words  differently 
arranged  would  express  different  thoughts. 

X. 

We  are  more  forcibly  persuaded,  in  general,  by  the  reasons 
that  we  ourselves  discover,  than  by  those  that  come  from  the 
minds  of  others. 

XI. 

The  mind  believes  naturally,  and  the  will  loves  naturally ; 
so  that,  in  default  of  true  objects,  they  must  attach  themselves 
to  false  ones. 

XII. 

Those  grand  efforts  of  mind  which  the  soul  occasionally 
•caches,  are  such  as  it  cannot  sustain.  It  reaches  them  onlj 

»  This  appears  to  be  an  allusion  to  the  miracle  of  the  Holy  Thorn. 


CHAPTER   IX.  235 

by  a  bound,  not  as  on  the  throne,  continuously,  but  for  an 
instant  only. 

XIII. 

Man  is  neither  angel  nor  brute ;  and  the  misfortune  is,  tha 
those  who  would  play  the  angel,  play  the  brute.1 

XIV. 

In  knowing  the  dominant  passion  of  any  man,  we  are  sure 
of  pleasing  him ;  and  nevertheless,  each  one  has  his  fancies, 
contrary  to  his  own  good,  in  the  very  idea  that  he  has  of  good  • 
and  this  is  an  eccentricity  that  disconcerts. 

XV. 

Glory. — Brutes  do  not  admire  each  other.  A  horse  does 
not  admire  his  companion.  Not  that  there  is  no  emulation 
among  them  on  the  course,  but  it  is  of  no  consequence ;  for, 
being  in  the  stable  the  heaviest  and  worst  made  does  not  give 
up  his  oats  to  another,  as  men  wish  we  should  do  to  them. 
Their  virtue  is  satisfied  with  itself. 

XVI. 

•As  we  injure  the  mind,  we  injure  also  the  feelings.  The 
mind  and  the  feelings  are  formed  by  conversations.  We  injure 
the  mind  and  the  feelings  by  conversations.  Thus  good  or 
bad  conversations  form  the  mind  or  injure  it.  It  is  of  impor- 
tance, then,  to  know  how  to  choose  well,  in  order  to  form,  and 
not  to  injure  the  mind  ;  and  we  cannot  make  this  choice,  if  we 
have  not  already  formed  and  not  injured  it.  Thus  we  have  a 
circle,  from  which  happy  are  those  who  escape. 

XVII.      * 

When  we  do  not  know  the  truth  of  a  thing,  it  is  good  that 
there  is  a  common  error  which  fixes  the  mind  of  men,  as,  for 

i  "  Us  veulent  se  inettre  hors  d'eulx  &  eschapper  a  1'homme,  c'est  folie 
tu  lieu  de  se  transformer  en  anges,  ils  se  transforment  en  bestes  ;  an  lieu  dft 
te  haulser,  ils  s'abattent." — Montaigne. 


PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

example,  the  moon,  to  which  we  attribute  the  change  of  sea- 
sons, the  progress  of  diseases,  etc.  For  the  principal  disease 
of  man  is  a  restless  curiosity  after  things  which  he  cannot 
know ;  and  it  is  not  so  bad  for  him  to  be  in  error,  as  to  have 
this  useless  curiosity. 

•[[  The  manner  of  writing  adopted  by  Epictetus,  Montaigne, 
and  Solomon  de  Tultie1  is  most  in  use,  is  most  insinuating, 
dwells  longest  in  the  memory,  and  is  oftenest  quoted,  because 
it  is  composed  altogether  of  thoughts  springing  from  the 
ordinary  conversations  of  life ;  as  when  we  speak  of  the  vul- 
gar error  that  obtains  in  the  world,  that  the  moon  is  the  cause 
of  every  thing,  we  never  fail  to  say  that  Solomon  de  Tultie 
says  that,  when  we  do  not  know  the  truth  of  a  thing,  it  is 
good  that  there  is  a  common  error,  etc.,  which  is  the  thought 
mentioned  above. 

xvm. 

If  the  thunderbolt  fell  on  low  places,  etc.,  poets,  and  those 
that  know  not  how  to  reason  but  on  things  of  this  nature, 
would  lack  proofs. 

XIX. 

The  heart  has  its  reasons,  which  the  reason  knows  nothing 
about ;  we  know  it  in  a  thousand  things.  I  say  that  the  heart 
loves  the  universal  Being  naturally,  and  it  loves  itself  nat- 
urally, according  to  its  inclination  ;  and  it  hardens  itself  against 
the  one  or  the  other  at  its  choice.  You  have  rejected  the  one 
and  preserved  the  other  :  is  it  through  reason  that  you  love  ? 
It  is  the  heart  that  feels  God,  and  not  the  reason.  This  is  faith : 
God  sensible  to  the  heart,  not  to  the  reason. 

XX. 

The  heart  has  its  order;  the  mind  has  its  own  order, 
which  ig  by  principles  and  demonstrations;  the  heart  has 

1  The  editors  of  Pascal  have  sought  in  v»in  who  Solomon  de  Tultie  might 
De.  It  is  evidently  a  pseudonym. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


237 


another.1  We  do  not  prove  that  we  ought  to  be  loved  by 
making  a  systematic  exposition  of  the  causes  of  love :  this 
would  be  ridiculous. 

Jesus  Christ,  and  St.  Paul  have  the  order  of  charity,  not  of 
the  mind ;  for  they  wished  to  warn,  not  to  instruct.  St. 
Augustine  the  same.  This  order  consists,  principally,  in  a 
digression  on  each  point  that  has  a  relation  to  the  end,  so  as 
to  show  it  always. 

XXI. 

To  mask  nature  and  disguise  her.  No  longer  king,  pope, 
bishops  ;  but  august  monarch,  etc. :  no  Paris ;  but  the  capital 
of  the  kingdom.  There  are  places  where  we  must  call  Paris 
Paris,  and  others  where  we  must  call  it  the  capital  of  the 
kingdom. 

XXII. 

When  in  a  composition  we  find  words  repeated,  and  when 
endeavoring  to  correct  them  we  find  them  so  suitable  that  a 
change  would  spoil  the  composition,  it  is  necessary  to  let  them 
stand ;  this  is  an  indication  of  their  fitness,  and  to  erase  them 
is  the  part  of  envy,  which  is  blind,  and  knows  not  that  this 
repetition  is  not  a  fault  in  this  place  ;  for  there  is  no  general 
rule. 

XXIII. 

_3/i'sce//[anea].  Language. — Those  who  make  antitheses  by 
fencing  the  sense,  are  like  those  who  make  false  windows  for 

»  The  design  of  Pascal,  in  his  new  apology,  was  to  show  that  Christian- 
ity is  amiable,  and,  this  important  point  once  gained,  to  establish  that  it  is 
us  true  as  any  thing  in  the  world  :  he  wished  to  insinuate  it  in  some  sort 
into  reason  through  the  heart.  This  thought  is  everywhere  in  Pascal.  In 
order  to  prepare  the  way  for  this  new  apology,  he  advances  a  theory 
which  he  thinks  he  is  inventing,  but  which  is  >oo  true  to  be  new,  to  wit, 
the  distinction  between  two  orders  of  truths, — the  one,  demonstrable,  the 
other,  indemonstrable,  because  they  are  primary  truths ;  the  former  are 
Droved,  the  latter  are  felt ;  these  emerge  from  reason,  from  reasoning, 
frcm  im-.lligence,  from  mind;  tnose  from  sentiment,  from  instinct,  from 
th'  teart, — Cousin. 


238  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

the  sake  of  symmetry.    Their  rule  is  not  to  speak  accurately 
but  to  make  accurate  figures. 

XXTV. 

Languages  are  ciphers,  wherein  the  letters  are  not  changed 
nto  letters,  but  the  words  into  words ;  so  that  an  unknown 
*ongue  can  be  deciphered. 

XXV. 

There  is  a  certain  model  of  agreement  and  beauty  which 
consists  in  a  certain  relation  between  our  nature,  feeble  or 
strong,  such  as  it  is,  and  the  thing  that  pleases  us.  Every 
thing  that  is  formed  according  to  this  model  delights  us : 
houses,  songs,  compositions,  verse,  prose,  women,  birds,  rivere, 
trees,  rooms,  clothes,  etc.  Every  thing  that  is  not  made  ae 
cording  to  this  model  displeases  those  who  have  good  taste. 
And  as  there  is  a  perfect  relation  between  a  song  and  a  house 
that  are  made  according  to  the  good  model,  because  they 
resemble  this  unique  model,  though  each  according  to  its  kind, 
so  there  is  a  perfect  relation  between  things  made  according 
to  the  bad  model.  It  is  not  that  the  bad  model  is  unique,  for 
there  is  an  infinity  of  them.  But  each  bad  sonnet,  for  example, 
according  to  whatever  false  model  it  may  have  been  made, 
perfectly  resembles  a  woman  dressed  according  to  this  model. — 
Nothing  makes  us  understand  better  how  ridiculous  a  falsa 
sonnet  is  than  to  consider  its  nature  and  the  model,  and  then 
to  imagine  a  woman  or  a  house  made  according  to  this  modei. 

XXVI. 

Poetic  beauty. — As  we  say  poetic  beauty,  we  ought  also  to 
»ay,  geometrical  beauty,  and  medicinal  beauty.  However,  we 
do  not  say  this :  and  the  reason  of  it  is,  that  we  know  very  well 
what  is  the  object  of  geometry,  and  that  it  consists  in  proofs, 
and  what  is  the  object  of  medicine,  and  that  it  consists  in 
healing ;  but  we  do  not  know  in  what  consists  the  charm 
that  is  the  object  of  poetry.  We  do  not  know  what  thil 


CHAPTER   IX.  239 

natural  model  is,  which  must  be  imitated ;  and,  in  default  of 
this  knowledge,  we  have  invented  certain  extravagant  terms  : 
"  golden  age,"  "  marvel  of  our  days,"  "  fatal,"  etc. ;  and  we 
call  this  jargon,  poetic  beauty.  But  whoever  shall  imagine  a 
woman  according  to  this  model,  that  consists  in  saying  littla 
things  with  big  words,  will  see  a  pretty  maiden  covered  witl 
mirrors  and  chains,  at  which  he  will  laugh,  because  we  know 
better  in  what  consists  the  charm  of  a  woman,  than  the  charm 
of  verses.  But  those  who  are  not  skilled  in  these  matters 
might  admire  her  in  this  dress :  and  there  are  many  villages 
where  she  would  be  taken  for  the  queen  :  and  this  is  the 
reason  why  we  call  sonnets  made  after  this  model,  "  village 
queens." 

xxvn. 

When  a  natural  discourse  paints  a  passion  or  an  effect,  we 
find  in  ourselves  the  truth  of  what  we  hear,  of  the  existence 
of  which  within  us  we  were  unaware,  so  that  we  are  induced 
to  love  him  who  discovers  it  to  us ;  for  he  has  not  shown  ua 
his  possession,  but  ours ;  and  thus  this  benefit  makes  him 
loveable  to  us :  besides,  this  community  of  intelligence  we 
have  with  him,  necessarily  inclines  the  heart  to  love  him. 

xxvni. 

Eloquence. — The  agreeable  and  the  real  are  requisite ;  but 
this  agreeable  must  itself  be  found  in  the  truth. 

XXIX. 

When  we  see  the  natural  style,. we  are  quite  astonishes 
*nd  delighted ;  for  we  expected  to  see  an  author,  and  we  find 
a  man.  Whilst  those  of  good  taste,  who  look  into  a  book 
expecting  to  find  a  man,  are  quite  surprised  to  find  an  author : 
Plus  poetice  quam  humane  locutus  es.  They  indeed  honor 
nature,  who  teach  her  that  she  can  speak  of  all  things,  even  of 
Jieology. 


240  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

XXX. 

The  last  thing  that  we  find  in  making  a  book  is  to  know 
what  we  must  put  first. 

XXXI. 

Language. — We  must  not  divert  the  mind,  except  to  relax 
it,  but  at  the  proper  time ;  to  relax  it  when  it  is  necessary, 
and  not  otherwise;  for  whoever  relaxes  inappropriately 
wearies;  and  whoever  wearies  inappropriately  relaxes,  for 
people  then  withdraw  attention  altogether  :  so  pleased  is  the 
malice  of  desire  to  do  just  the  opposite  of  what  one  wishes  to 
obtain  from  us  without  giving  us  pleasure,  which  is  the  change 
for  which  we  give  all  that  is  desired. 

XXXIL 

What  vanity  is  painting,  which  attracts  admiration  by  the 
resemblance  of  things  which  in  the  original  we  do  not  admire ! 

XXXIII. 

The  same  sense  changes  according  to  the  words  that  express 
it.  The  sense  receives  dignity  from  words,  instead  of  giving 
it  to  them.  Examples  of  this  must  be  sought .... 

XXXIV. 

Those  who  are  accustomed  to  judge  b^  sentiment  under- 
stand nothing  of  matters  of  reasoning;  for  they  wish  at  first 
to  penetrate  with  one  view,  and  are  not  accustomed  to  search 
for  principles.  And  others,  on  the  contrary,  who  are  accus- 
tomed to  reason  by  principles,  comprehend  nothing  of  matters 
of  sentiment,  seeking  therein  principles,  and  not  being  able  to 
we  them  at  one  view. 

XXXV. 

Geometry,  acuteness. — True  eloquence  scorns  eloquence,  true 
xorality  scorns  morality  ;  that  is,  the  morality  of  the  judgment 


CHAPTER   IX.  241 

scorns  the  morality  of  the  mind,  which  is  without  rules.  For 
it  is  judgment  that  sentiment  appertains  to,  as  the  sciences 
appertain  to  the  mind.  Acuteness  is  a  part  of  the  judgment, 
geometry  is  a  part  of  the  mind. 

To  scorn  philosophy  is  truly  to  philosophize.1 

XXXVI. 

All  the  false  beauties  that  we  blame  in  Cicero  have  admirers, 
and  in  great  number. 

XXXVII. 

There  are  many  people  who  understand  the  sermon  in  the 
same  manner  as  they  understand  vespers.  . 

XXXVIII. 

Rivers  are  highways  that  move  on,  and  bear  us  whither  we 
wish  to  go. 

XXXIX. 

Two  similar  faces,  neither  of  which  alone  causes  laughter^ 
cause  laughter  when  they  are  together,  by  their  resemblance. 

XL. 

Probability? — They  have  some  principles,  but  they  abuse 
them.  Now,  the  abuse  of  truths  ought  to  be  punished  as 
much  as  the  introduction  of  falsehood. 


1  "Un  ancien  ^  qui  on  reprochoit  qu'il  faisoit  profession  de  la  philosc- 
phie  de  laquelle  pourtant  en  son  iugement  il  ne  tenoit  pas  grand  compte, 
respondit  que  cela  c'estoit  vrayement  philosopher." — Montaigne. 

*  Port-Royal,  as  usual,  omits  the  tills,  and  says  that  astrologers  and 
alchemists  "  have  -some  principles."    Pascal  refers  to  the  Jesuits,  - 
hia  earliest  editors  had  reasons  for  not  wishing  to  mention. 

11 


242  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS 


CHAPTER   X. 

[MAN,  WITH  PHILOSOPHY  ALONE,  REMAINS  INCOMPREHENSIBLE  TO  HIMSELF  . 
HE  ONLY  KNOWS  HIMSELF  BY  THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  TRANSMISSION  OF  8IN, 
AND  CAN  FIND  ONLY  BY  FAITH  THE  TRUE  GOOD  AND  JUSTICE.] 

1 ...  The  principal  arguments  of  the  Pyrrhonists  (I  omit  the 
least  important)  are,  that  we  have  no  certainty  of  the  truth  of 
these  principles,  aside  from  faith  and  revelation,  except  that 
we  feel  them  naturally  in  us :  now,  this  natural  feeling  is  not 
a  convincing  proof  of  their  truth,  since  there  being,  aside  from 
faith,  no  certainty  whether  man  has  been  created  by  a  good 
God,  by  a  wicked  demon,  or  by  chance,  it  is  doubtful  whether 
these  principles  have  been  given  to  us  as  true,  false,  or  uncer- 
tain, according  to  our  origin.  Moreover,  as  no  one  has  any 
assurance,  except  from  faith,  whether  he  wakes  or  sleeps,  see- 
ing that,  during  sleep,  the  man  believes  he  is  awake  as  firmly 
as  we  do ;  he  thinks  he  sees  spaces,  figures,  movements ;  he 
feels  the  lapse  of  time,  measures  it,  and,  in  short,  acts  the  same 
as  when  awake  ;  so  that,  the  half  of  life  being  passed  in  sleep, 
by  our  own  confession,  in  which,  however  it  may  appear  to  us, 
we  have  no  idea  of  the  true,  all  our  sentiments  being  then  illu- 
sions, who  knows  whether  this  other  half  of  life  in  which  we 


1  At  the  head  of  this  chapter,  Port-Koyal  placed  the  following  preamble : 
"  Nothing  id  stranger,  in  the  nature  of  man,  than  the  contrarieties  therein 
discovered  in  regard  to  all  things.  He  is  made  to  know  the  truth ;  he  ar- 
dently desires  it,  seeks  it;  and,  nevertheless,  when  he  strives  to  grasp  it, 
he  is  so  dazzled  and  confounded  that  he  gives  occasion  to  doubt  whethei 
he  has  attained  it.  This  has  given  rise  to  the  two  sects  of  PyrrhonisU 
ind  dogmatists,  of  which  the  one  has  wished  to  rob  man  of  all  knowledge 
of  the  truth,  and  the  other  strives  to  assure  him  of  it ;  but  each  with  rea- 
sons so  improbable,  that  they  augment  the  confusion  and  embarrassment 
of  man,  when  he  has  no  other  light  than  that  which  he  finds  in  his  owe 
nature." 


CHAPTER   X.  243 

think  we  are  awake,  is  not  another  sleep  a  little  different  from 
the  first,  from  which  we  awake  when  we  think  we  go  to  sleep  ? ' 

Such  are  the  principal  arguments  on  both  sides. 

I  leave  the  least,  such  as  the  discourses  that  the  Pyrrhonists 
make  against  the  impressions  of  custom,  education,  manners, 
countries,  and  other  similar  things,  which,  though  they  carry 
away  the  majority  of  common  men,  who  dogmatize  only  on 
these  vain  foundations,  are  overturned  by  the  least  breath  of 
the  Pyrrhonists.  We  have  but  to  see  their  books;  if  we  are 
not  sufficiently  persuaded  of  it,  we  shall  become  so  very 
quickly,  and  perhaps  too  quickly. 

I  pause  at  the  only  strong  point  of  the  dogmatists,  which  is, 
that  we  cannot,  speaking  sincerely  and  in  good  faith,  doubt 
natural  principles. 

Against  which  the  Pyrrhonists  oppose,  in  a  word,  the  un- 
certainty of  our  origin,  which  includes  that  of  our  nature ;  and 
this  the  dogmatists  have  not  yet  answered  since  the  world 
began. 

Here  is  open  war  between  men,  in  which  each  must  take 
part,  and  must,  necessarily,  range  himself  on  the  side  of  dog- 
matism, or  on  that  of  Pyrrhonism  ;  for,  whoever  thinks  of  re- 
maining neutral  will  be  a  Pyrrhonist  par  excellence.  This 
neutrality  is  the  essence  of  the  cabal  :*  whoever  is  not  against 
them  is  necessarily  for  them.  They  are  not  for  themselves ; 
they  are  neutral,  indifferent,  in  suspense  about  every  thing,  not 
excepting  themselves. 


»  As  a  continuation  of  this  paragraph,  Pascal  had  written :  "  And  who 
doubts  that,  if  we  dreamed  in  company,  and  dreams  by  chance  accorded 
with  each  other,  as  is  common  enough,  and  we  were  awake  in  so^tude,  we 
should  not  believe- matters  reversed?  In  fine,* as  we  often  dream  that  we 
dream,  piling  one  dream  upon  another,  it  is  also  quite  possible  that  this 
iife  is  itself  only  a  dream,  on  whLh  others  are  grafted,  from  which  we 
awake  at  death,  daring  which  we  have  the  principles  of  the  true  and  the 
good  as  little  as  during  the  natural  sleep  ;  th%se  thoughts  that  agitate  u* 
being,  perhaps,  only  illusions,  similar  to  the  lapse  of  time,  and  to  the  vain 
fancies  of  our  dreams"  (erased). 

*  VAB.  OF  MS. :  "  For  neutrality,  which  is  the  part  of  the  wise,  IB  the 
most  ancient  dogma  of  the  Tyrrhenian  cabal"  (erased). 


244  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

What  stall  man  do,  then,  in  this  state  ?  Shall  he  doubt  or 
every  thing?  shall  he  doubt  that  he  is  awake,  if  we  pinch  him 
or  burn  him  ?  shall  he  doubt  that  he  doubts  ?  shall  he  doubt 
that  he  is  ?  We  cannot  go  so  far  as  this ;  and  I  state  it  as  a 
fact,  that  there  never  has  been  an  absolute  and  perfect  Pyr- 
rhonist.  Nature  sustains  impotent  reason,  and  prevents  her 
from  reaching  this  point  of  extravagance. 

Shall  he  say,  then,  on  the  contrary,  that  he  possesses  truth 
with  certainty ;  he  who,  if  you  press  him  ever  so  little,  can 
show  no  title  to  it  whatever,  and  is  forced  to  give  up  his 
hold? 

What  a  chimera,  then,  is  man !  what  a  novelty,  what  a 
monster,  what  a  chaos,  what  a  subject  of  contradiction,  what 
a  prodigy !  A  judge  of  all  things,  feeble  worm  of  the  earth, 
depositary  of  the  truth,  cloaca  of  uncertainty  and  error,  the 
glory  and  the  shame  of  the  universe  ! 

Who  shall  unravel  this  entanglement.1  Nature  confounds 
the  Pyrrhonists,2  and  reason  confounds  the  dogmatists.  What 
shall  become  of  you,  then,  O  man !  you  who  search  out  what 
is  your  true  condition  by  your  natural  reason  ?  You  cannot 
avoid3  one  of  these  sects,  nor  subsist  in  either. 

Know,  then,4  haughty  man,  what  a  paradox  you  are  to  your- 
eelf.  Humble  yourself,  impotent  reason ;  be  silent,  imbecile 
nature ;  learn  that  man  infinitely  surpasses  man,  and  hear 


1  VAB.  OF  MS. :   "  "Who  shall  unravel  this  entanglement  ?    Certainly 
this  surpasses  dogmatism,  and  Pyrrhonism,  and  all  human  philosophy. 
Man  surpasses  man.    Let  us  accord,  then,  to  the  Pyrrhonists  what  they 
have  so  often  proclaimed :  that  truth  is  not  within  our  reach,  and  is  no* 
our  game,  that  it  does  not  dwell  on  earth,  that  it  inhabits  heaven,  that  it 
lodges  in  the  bosom  of  God,  and  that  we  can  know  no  more  of  it  than  what 
he  is  pleased  to  reveal  to  us.    Let  us  learn,  then,  of  the  uncreated  and 
incarnate  truth  our  true  nature"  (erased). 

2  VAR.  OF  MS. :  "  One  cannot  be  a  Pyrrhonist  without  stifling  nature 
one  cannot  be  a  dogmatist  without  renouncing  reason"  (erased). 

8  "  You  cannot  avoid  one  of  these  sects."  That  is,  you  cannot  avoid 
(ailing  into  one  or  the  other  of  these  sects ;  for,  if  you  are  not  a  dogmatist, 
you  are  a  Pyrrhonist,  and  vice  versa.  And  you  cannot,  notwithstanding 
remain  steadfast  in  either. — Havel. 

«  VAB.  OF  MS. :  "  Let  us  learn  then"  (erased). 


CHAPTER   X.  245 

from  your  master  your  true  condition,  which  you  are  ignorant 
»f.  Listen  to  God. 

For,  in  fine,  if  man  had  never  been  corrupted,  he  would 
enjoy  in  his  innocence  both  truth  and  happiness  with  assur- 
ance. And  if  man  had  never  been  any  thing  more  than  a  cor- 
rupted being,  he  would  have  no  idea  either  of  truth  or  of 
beatitude.  But,  unhappy  as  we  are,  and  more  than  if  there 
were  no  grandeur  in  our  condition,  we  have  an  idea  of  happi- 
ness, and  we  cannot  reach  it ;  we  feel  an  image  of  the  truth, 
and  possess  but  falsehood  :  incapable  of  absolute  ignorance, 
and  of  certain  knowledge,  so  manifest  is  it  that  we  have  been 
in  a  degree  of  perfection  from  which  we  are  unfortunately 
fallen  ! 

It  is  an  astonishing  thing,  nevertheless,  that  the  mystery 
most  remote  from  our  knowledge,  which  is  that  of  the  trans- 
mission of  sin,  is  a  thing  without  which  we  can  have  no  knowl- 
edge whatever  of  ourselves !  For  there  is,  without  doubt,  noth« 
ing  that  shocks  our  reason  more  than  to  say  that  the  sin  of  the 
first  man  has  rendered  those  guilty  who,  being  so  far  removed 
from  this  source,  seem  incapable  of  participating  in  it.  This 
inference  appears  to  us  not  only  impossible,  it  seems  to  us  even 
very  unjust ;  for  what  is  there  more  contrary  to  the  rules  of 
our  miserable  justice  than  to  damn  eternally  a'  child  incapable 
of  will,  for  a  sin  in  which  he  appears  to  have  so  little  part,  that 
it  was  committed  six  thousand  years  before  he  was  in  being  ? 

Certainly,  nothing  strikes  us  more  rudely  than  this  doctrine ; 
and  yet,  without  this  mystery,  the  most  incomprehensible  of 
all,  we  are  incomprehensible  to  ourselves.  The  knot  of  our 
condition  takes  its  twists  and  turns  in  this  abyss ;  so  that  man 
8  more  inconceivable  without  this  mystery,  than  this  mystery 
is  inconceivable-  to  man.1 


1  Here  Pascal  had  added  these  lines :  "  Whence  it  appears  that  God, 
wishing  to  render  the  problem  of  our  own  being  unintelligible  to  ourselves, 
tas  hidden  the  solution  of  it  so  high,  or,  more  properly  speaking,  so  low, 
that  we  are  altogether  incapable  of  coming  at  it ;  so  that  it  is  not  by  the 
haughty  perturbations  of  our  reason,  out  by  the  simple  submission  of  tha 
reason,  that  we  can  truly  know  ourselves. 


246  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

*U"  Second  part.  That  man  without  faith  can  know  neither 
the  true  good  nor  justice. — All  men  seek  to  be  happy ;  this  is 
without  exception.  Whatever  different  means  they  may  em- 
ploy, they  all  tend  to  this  end.  This  is  why  some  go  to  war, 
and  why  others  do  not,  that  both  parties  have  the  same  desire, 
accompanied  by  different  views.  The  will  never  takes  the 
least  step  but  towards  this  object.  It  is  the  motive  of  all  the 
actions  of  all  men,  even  of  those  who  hang  themselves. 

And  yet,  after  the  lapse  of  so  many  years,  no  one  has  ever 
reached,  except  by  faith,  this  point  upon  which  all  keep  theii 
eyes  continually  fixed.  All  complain :  princes,  subjects ;  no- 
bles, plebeians ;  old,  young ;  strong,  weak ;  learned,  ignorant ; 
healthy,  unhealthy ;  of  all  countries,  of  all  times,  of  all  ages, 
and  of  all  conditions. 

An  experience  so  lengthened,  so  continued,  and  so  uniform, 
ought  to  convince  us  of  our  inability  to  arrive  at  the  good  by 
our  own  efforts ;  but  the  example  does  not  instruct  us.  It  is 
never  so  perfectly  similar,  that  there  is  not  some  slight  differ- 
ence ;  hence  it  is  that  we  expect  our  hope  will  not  be  deceived 
on  this  occasion  as  on  the  other.  And  thus  the  present  never 
satisfying  us,  hope  cheats  us,  and  from  evil  to  evil  leads  us 
.>n  to  death,  which  is  an  eternal  consummation  of  ill. 

What  then  is'  this  cry  of  avidity  and  impotency,  except  that 
there  was  formerly  in  man  a  true  happiness,  of  which  there 
remains  to  him  now  only  a  mark,  a  trace  wholly  void,  which 

"  These  foundations,  solidly  established  on  the  inviolable  authority  of 
religion,  teach  us  that  there  are  two  truths  of  faith  equally  constant :  one, 
that  man,  in  the  state  of  creation,  or  in  that  of  grace,  is  raised  above  all 
latnre,  made  like  unto  God,  and  participating  in  his  divinity ;  the  other, 
that  in  the  state  of  corruption  and  sin,  he  is  fallen  from  this  state,  and 
made  like  unto  the  brutes.  These  two  propositions  are  equally  constant 
and  certain.  The  Scripture  manifestly  declares  them  to  us,  when  it  says 
in  some  places  :  lDtliciee  meat  esse  camJUiisJiominum.  Effundam  spirUvm 
meum  super  omnem  carnem.  Dii  fstisj  etc. ;  and  when  it  says  in  other 
places :  I0mnis  caro  fcenum.  Horao  assimilatus  e»t  jumtntis  inslpientibut 
*t  similis  foetus  t-st  illis.  Dlxi  in  corde  meo  de  filiix  hominum?.  . .  (Eccles. 
in) :  whence  it  clearly  appears  that  man,  by  grace,  is  become  like  unto 
God,  and  participating  in  his  divinity,  and  that,  without  grace,  he  is  liks 
into  the  brute  beasts"  (erased). 


CHAPTER   X.  217 

be  vainly  tries  to  fill  with  all  that  surrounds  him,  seeking  from 
things  absent  the  succor  which  he  cannot  obtain  from  things 
present,  but  which  are  incapable  of  it,  because  this  infinite 
abyss  cannot  be  filled  but  by  an  infinite  and  immutable  object, 
that  is,  but  by  God  himself. 

He  alone  is  man's  true  good ;  and  since  man  has  left  God 
it  is  a  strange  thing,  that  there  is  nothing  in  nature  that  has 
been  able  to  fill  his  place :  stars,  heaven,  earth,  elements, 
plants,  cabbages,  pears,  animals,  insects,  calves,  serpents,  fevers, 
plagues,  war,  famine,  vices,  adultery,  incest.1  And  since  he 
has  lost  the  true  good,  every  thing  may  equally  appear  to  him 
such,  even  his  own  destruction,  although  so  contrary  to  God, 
reason,  and  nature  combined. 

Some  seek  it  in  authority,  others  in  curiosities  and  science, 
others  in  voluptuous  pleasures.  Others,  who  have  in  fact 
approached  nearer  to  it,  have  considered  that  the  universal 
good,  which  all  men  desire,  necessarily  cannot  be  in  any  par- 
ticular thing  which  can  be  possessed  only  by  one,  and  which, 
being  divided,  afflicts  its  possessor  more,  by  the  lack  of  the 
part  which  he  has  not,  than  it  contents  him  by  the  enjoyment 
of  that  which  he  has.  They  have  understood  that  the  true 
good  ought  to  be  such,  that  all  might  possess  it  at  once,  with- 
out diminution  and  without  envy,  and  that  no  one  might  lose 
it  against  his  will. 

And  their  reason  is  that  this  desire  being  natural  to  man, 
since  it  is  necessarily  in  all,  and  that  he  cannot  but  have  it, 
they  conclude  . . .  •. 9 

^[  Philosophers. — We  are  full  of  things  that  impel  us  to 
the  outward. 

Our  instinct  makes  us  feel  that  we  must  seek  our  happiness 


1  "  DCS  crimes  les  plus  noire  vous  souillez  tons  vos  dieux ; 
Vous  n'en  punissez  point  qui  n'ait  son  maitre  aux  cieux; 
La  prostitution,  1'adultere,  1'inceste, 
Le  vol,  1'assassinat,  ev,  tout  c«j  ^u'on  deteste, 
C'est  1'exemple  qu'a  suivre  offrent  vos  immortels. 

CORNEILLZ,  Polyeucte,  V,  iii. 

1  Pascal  did  not  finish  this  sentence. 


24:8  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

in  ourselves.  Our  passions  drive  us  to  the  outward,  even  when 
there  are  no  objects  to  excite  them.  Outward  objects  tempt 
us  of  themselves  and  call  us,  even  when  we  are  not  thinking 
of  them.  And  thus  philosophers  have  vainly  said:  Return 
into  yourselves,  you  will  there  find  your  good ;  men  do  not 
believe  them,  and  those  who  do  believe  them  are  the  .uo&t 
empty  and  the  greatest  fools. 

^[  Stoics. —  .  .  .  They  conclude  that  we  can  do  always  what 
we  can  do  sometimes,  and  that,  since  the  desire  of  glory 
prompts  some  to  do  a  thing  well,  others  can  do  so  also.  These 
are  feverish  movements,  which  health  cannot  imitate.  Epic- 
tetus  concluded  that  since  there  are  steadfast  Christians,  each 
may  become  such. 

^[  The  three  desires'  have  made  three  sects,  and  the  phi- 
losophers have  done  nothing  else  than  follow  one  of  the  three. 

^[  We  know  the  truth,  not  only  by  the  reason,  but  also  by 
the  heart ;  it  is  by  the  heart  that  we  know  first  principles,  and 
it  is  in  vain  that  reasoning,  which  has  no  part  in  it,  tries  to 
combat  them.  The  Pyrrhonists,  whose  only  object  this  is, 
strive  for  it  in  vain.  We  know  that  we  do  not  dream,  how- 
ever impotent  we  may  be  to  prove  it  by  reason ;  this  impo- 
tence proves  nothing  more  than  the  feebleness  of  our  reason, 
but  not  the  uncertainty  of  all  our  knowledge,  as  they  pretend. 
For  the  knowledge  of  first  principles,  as  of  space,  time,  move" 
ment,  numbers,  is  as  certain  as  any  of  those  that  our  reason- 
ings give  us.  And  it  is  on  this  knowledge  of  the  heart  and 
instinct  that  reason  must  support  herself,  and  on  this  she 
founds  her  whole  procedure.  The  heart  feels  that  there  are 
three  dimensions  in  space,  and  that  numbers  are  infinite ;  and 
the  reason  demonstrates  in  course,  that  there  are  no  two  square 
numbers  of  which  one  is  double  the  other.  Principles  are  felt, 
propositions  are  proved ;  and  all  with  certainty,  although  ir 
different  ways.  And  it  is  as  ridiculous  for  the  reason  to  de- 
mand of  the  heart  proofs  of  its  first  principles,  in  order  to  be 

1  Voluptuousness,  which  made  the  Epicureans ;  pride,  which  made  th» 
Stoics ;  curiosity,  libido  sciendi,  which  made  the  Dogmatic  philosophers. 


CHAPTER   X.  249 

willing  to  consent  to  them,  as  it  would  be  for  the  heart  to 
demand  of  the  reason  a  feeling  of  all  the  propositions  that  it 
demonstrates  in  order  to  be  willing  to  receive  them. 

This  impotency  ought  to  serve,  then,  only  to  humble  the 
eason,  that  would  judge  of  every  thing,  but  not  to  combat 
our  certainty,  as  if  there  were  nothing  but  reason  capable  of 
nstructing  us.  Would  to  God,  that,  on  the  contrary,  we 
never  had  need  of  it,  and  that  we  knew  all  things  by  in- 
stinct and  sentiment !  But  nature  has  refused  us  this  good, 
and  she  has  given  us,  on  the  contrary,  but  very  little  knowl- 
edge of  this  kind ;  all  other  knowledge  can  be  acquired  only 
by  reasoning. 

Hence  it  is  that  those  to  whom  God  has  given  religion  by 
sentiment  of  heart  are  very  happy  and  very  legitimately  per- 
suaded. But  to  those  who  have  it  not  we  can  give  it  only  by 
reasoning,  until  God  gives  it  to  them  by  sentiment  of  heart, 
without  which  faith  is  but  human,  and  useless  for  salvation. 

II. 

. . .  This  internal  war  of  the  reason  against  the  passions  has 
been  the  cause  why  those  who  wished  for  peace,  have  separated 
into  two  sects.1  Some  have  wished  to  renounce  the  passions, 
and  become  gods ;  others  have  wished  to  renounce  reason,  and 
become  brute  beasts  (Des  Barreaux).  But  neither  party  has 
been  able  to  do  this,  and  reason  always  remains  to  accuse  the 
baseness  and  the  injustice  of  passion,  and  to  trouble  the  repose 
of  those  who  abandon  themselves  to  it ;  and  the  passions  are 
ilways  alive  in  those  even  who  wish  to  renounce  them. 

III.       . 

Instinct,  Reason. — We  cannot  become  invincible  to  all  do<* 
mati»m ;  we  have  an  idea  of  the  truth,  invincible  to  all  Pyr- 
rhonism. 

*"  We  desire  truth,  and  find  in  ourselves  only  uncertainty 

•  "  Into  two  sects. '    The  Stoics  and  the  Epicureans. — Havtt. 


250  PASCAL. THOCGHTS. 

We  seek  happiness,  and  find  only  misery  and  death.  We  are 
incapable  of  not  desiring  truth  and  happiness,  and  are  incapa- 
ble either  of  certainty  or  happiness.  This  desire  is  left  us,  as 
much  for  our  punishment,  as  to  make  us  feel  whence  we  have 
fallen. 

IV. 

If  man  is  not  made  for  God,  why  is  he  happy  only  in  God ! 
If  man  is  made  for  God,  why  is  he  opposed  to  God  ? 

V. 

Man  knows  not  in  what  rank  to  place  himself.  He  is  ob- 
viously astray,  and  fallen  from  his  true  place  without  being 
able  to  find  it  again.  He  seeks  it  everywhere  with  uneasine*« 
and  without  success  in  impenetrable  darkness. 


CHAPTER   XI.  251 


CHAPTER  XL 

[OF  THS  FINITE  AND  THE  INFINITE. — THAT  MAN,  IN  WAGERING  THAT  GOB 
EXISTS,  WAGERS  WITH  CERTAINTY  AND  HAS  EVERY  THING  TO  GAIN. — 
ON  THE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  GOD.] 

INFINITE,  NOTHING. — Our  soul  is  thrown  into  the  body, 
wherein  it  finds  number,  time,  dimension.  It  reasons  thereon, 
and  calls  this  nature,  necessity,  and  cannot  believe  any  thing 
else. 

Unity  joined  to  the  infinite  augments  it  in  nothing  any 
more  than  a  foot  added  to  an  infinite  measure.  The  finite  is 
annihilated  in  the  presence  of  the  infinite,  and  becomes  a  pure 
nothing.  Thus  our  mind  before  God ;  thus  our  justice  before 
the  divine  justice. 

There  is  not  so  great  a  disproportion  between  our  justice 
and  God's,  as  between  unity  and  infinity. 

The  justice  of  God  must  be  great  as  his  mercy :  now,  the 
justice  toward  the  reprobates  is  not  so  great,  and  ought  to 
shock  us  less,  than  the  mercy  toward  the  elect. 

We  know  that  there  is  an  infinite,  and  know  not  its  nature. 
As  we  know  that  it  is  false  that  numbers  are  finite,  then  it  is 
true  that  there  is  an  infinite  in  number :  but  we  know  not 
what  it  is.  It  is 'not  true  that  it  is  even,  it  is  not  true  that  it 
is  odd ;  for,  in  adding  unity  to  it,  it  does  not  change  its  nature ; 
yet  it  is  a  number,  and  every  number  is  odd  or  even  :  it  is  true 
that  this  is  understood  of  all  finite  numbers. 

Thus  we  may  easily  know  that  there  is  a  God  without  know- 
ing what  he  is. 

We  know,  then,  the  existence  and  the  nature  of  the  finite, 
because  we  are  finite  and  extended  as  it  is. 

We  know  the  existence  of  the  infinite,  and  know  not  its 
nature,  because  it  has  extent  like  us,  but  it  has  no  limits 
like  us. 


252  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

But  we  know  neither  the  existence  nor  the  nature  of  God, 
because  he  has  neither  extent  nor  limits. 

But  by  faith  we  know  his  existence;  by  glory1  we  shall 
know  his  nature.  Now,  I  have  already  shown  that  we  may 
easily  know  the  existence  of  a  thing  without  knowing  ita 
nature. 

Let  us  speak  now  according  to  the  light  of  nature. 

If  there  is  a  God  he  is  infinitely  incomprehensible,  since, 
having  neither  parts  nor  limits,  he  has  no  proportion  to  us :  we 
are  then,  incapable  of  knowing  either  what  he  is,  or  whether 
he  is.  This  being  true,  who  will  dare  to  undertake  to  resolve 
this  question  ?  It  is  not  we,  who  have  no  proportion  to  him. 

Who,  then,  shall  blame,  as  not  being  able  to  give  a  reason 
for  their  belief,  those  Christians,  men  who  profess  a  religion  for 
which  they  can  give  no  reason  ?  They  declare,  in  exposing  it 
to  the  world,  that  it  is  a  folly,  stultitiam  ;  *  and  then  you  com- 
plain that  they  do  not  prove  it !  If  they  proved  it,  they  would 
not  keep  their  word  :  it  is  in  lacking  proofs,  that  they  do  not 
lack  sense.  Yes ;  but  though  this  may  excuse  those  who  offer 
it  such,  and  take  away  the  blame  for  producing  it  without 
reason,  this  docs  not  excuse  those  who  receive  it.  Let  us  ex- 
amine this  point  then,  and  say :  God  is,  or  he  is  not.  But 
to  which  side  shall  we  incline  ?  Reason  cannot  decide  it  at  all. 
There  is  an  infinite  chaos  that  separates  us.  A  game  is  being 
played,  at  the  extremity  of  this  infinite  distance,  in  which 
heads  or  tails  must  come  up.  Which  will  you  take  ?  By 
reason  you  can  wager  on  neither ;  by  reason  you  can  hinder 
neither  from  winning.1 

Do  not,  then,  charge  with  falsehood  those  who  have  made 
a  choice ;  for  you  know  nothing  about  it. — No :  but  I  blame 


1  Glory,  in  the  Christian  language,  means  the  glorious  state  of  the  tlect 
ID  heaven. — Havet. 

•  Saint  Paul,  1  Cor.  i,  18. 

•  Bousseau  determined  his  own  destiny  by  the  falling  of  a  stick ;  Ficht* 
treated  God,  for  some  long-haired  German  students,  in  a  lecture ;  Pasca. 
here  determines  the  existence  of  the  Deity  by  a  game  of  pitch-penny 
u  Heads,  I  v in ;  tails,  you  lose." — Sd. 


CHAPTER   XI.  253 

them  for  having  made,  not  this  choice,  but  a  cnoice*  for, 
although  he  who  takes  heads,  and  the  other,  are  in  the  same 
fault,  they  are  both  in  fault :  the  proper  way  is  not  to  wager. 
Yes,  but  you  must  wager :  this  is  not  voluntary,  you  are 
embarked.  Which  will  you  take  then  ?  Let  us  see.  Since  a 
choice  must  be  made,  let  us  see  which  interests  you  the  least. 
You  have  two  things  to  lose,  the  true  and  the  good ;  and  two 
things  to  stake,  your  reason  and  your  will,  your  knowledge 
And  your  beatitude ;  and  your  nature  has  two  things  to  shun, 
error  and  misery.  Your  reason  is  not  more  wounded,  since  a 
choice  must  necessarily  be  made,  in  choosing  one  rather  than 
the  other.  Here  is  a  point  eliminated ;  but  your  beatitude  ? 
Let  us  weigh  the  gain  and  the  loss,  in  taking  heads  that  God 
exists.  Let  us  weigh  these  two  cases  :  if  you  gain,  you  gain  all ; 
if  you  lose,  you  lose  nothing.  Wager  then  that  he  is,  without 
hesitation. — This  is  admirable  :  yes,  it  is  necessary  to  wager ; 
but  perhaps  I  wager  too  much. — Let  us  see.  Since  there  is 
equal  hazard  of  gaining  or  losing,  if  you  had  to  gain  but  two 
lives  for  one,  still  you  might  wager.  But  if  there  were  three 
to  gain,  it  would  be  requisite  to  play  (since  you  are  under  the 
necessity  of  playing),  and  you  would  be  imprudent,  when  you 
are  forced  to  play,  not  to  hazard  your  life  in  order  to  gain 
three  in  a  play  where  there  is  equal  hazard  of  loss  and  gain. 
But  there  is  an  eternity  of  life  and  happiness.  And  this  being 
true,  even  were  there  an  infinity  of  chances,  only  one  of  which 
might  be  for  you,  you  would  still  be  right  in  wagering  one  in 
order  to  have  two,  and  you  would  act  foolishly,  being  obliged 
to  play,  to  refuse  to  play  one  life  against  three  in  a  game  where 
among  an  infinity  of  chances  there  is  one  for  you,  if  there 
was  an  infinity  of  life  infinitely  happy  to  gain.  But  there  is 
here  an  infinity  of  life  infinitely  happy  to  gain,  a  chance  of 
gain  against  a  finite  number  of  chances  of  loss,  and  what  you 
play  is  finite.  This  is  quite  settled  :l  wheiever  the  infinite  is, 
and  where  there  is  not  an  infinity  of  chances  of  loss  against 


1  That  is,  as  M.  Havct  explains  it,  the  balance  of  gain  or  loss  is  quit* 

Muted. 


854  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

the  chance  of  gain,  there  is  nothing  to  balance,  we  must  give 
all.  And  thus,  when  we  are  forced  to  play,  we  must  renounce 
reason  in  order  to  keep  life  rather  than  to  hazard  it  for  the 
infinite  gain,  as  ready  to  come  as  the  loss  of  nothingness. 

For  there  is  no  use  in  saying  that  it  is  uncertain  whether 
we  shall  gain,  and  that  it  is  certain  that  we  hazard ;  and  that 
the  infinite  distance  between  the  certainty  of  what  we  risk, 
and  the  uncertainty  of  what  we  shall  gain,  raises  the  finite 
good  which  we  risk  with  certainty,  to  an  equality  with  the 
infinite  which  is  uncertain.  It  is  not  so  :  every  player  hazards 
with  certainty  to  gain  with  uncertainty,  and  nevertheless  he 
hazards  certainly  the  finite  to  gain  uncertainly  the  finite,  with- 
out sinning  against  reason.  The  distance  is  not  infinite  be- 
tween this  certainty  of  what  we  risk  and  the  uncertainty  of 
gain ;  this  is  false.  There  is,  in  truth,  an  infinity  between  the 
certainty  of  gaining  and  the  certainty  of  losing.  But  the  un- 
certainty of  gaining  is  proportioned  to  the  certainty  of  what 
we  hazard,  according  to  the  proportion  of  the  chances  of 
gain  and  loss;  whence  it  comes  that,  if  there  are  as  many 
chances  on  one  side  as  there  are  on  the  other,  the  game  is 
playing  even ;  and  then  the  certainty  of  what  we  hazard  is 
equal  to  the  uncertainty  of  the  gain :  so  far  is  it  from  being 
infinitely  distant.  And  thus  our  proposition  is  of  infinite  force, 
when  there  is  the  finite  to  hazard  in  a  play  where  the  chances 
of  gain  and  loss  are  equal,  and  the  infinite  to  gain.  This  is 
demonstrative ;  and  if  men  are  capable  of  any  truths,  this  is 
one  of  them. 

I  confess  it,  I  admit  it.  But,  still,  are  there  no  means  of 
seeing  the  trick  of  the  game? — Yes,  the  Scripture,  and  tho 
rest,  etc. 

Yes ;  but  my  hands  are  tied  and  my  mouth  is  dumb  :  I  am 
forced  to  wager,  and  I  am  not  at  liberty  :  I  am  not  unfettered 
and  so  constituted  that  I  cannot  believe.  What  will  you  have 
me  do  then  ? 

It  is  true.  But  learn,  at  least,  your  inability  to  believe,  since 
reason  brings  you  to  it,  and  yet  yoc  cannot  believe ;  try  their 
to  convince  yourself,  not  by  the  augmentation  of  proofs  of  th« 


CHAPTER   XI.  255 

existence  of  God,  but  by  the  diminution  of  your  own  passions. 
You  would  have  recourse  to  faith,  but  you  know  not  the  way : 
you  wish  to  be  cured  of  infidelity,  and  you  ask  for  the  remedy  : 
learn  it  from  those  who  have  been  bound  like  yourself,  and  who 
would  wager  now  all  their  goods ;  these  know  the  road  that 
you  wish  to  follow,  and  are  cured  of  a  disease  that  you  wish 
to  be  cured  of.  Follow  their  course,  then,  from  its  beginning ; 
it  consisted  in  doing  all  things  as  if  they  believed  in  them,  iu 
using  holy  water,  in  having  masses  said,  etc.  Naturally  this  will 
make  you  believe  and  stupefy  you  at  the  same  time. — But  this 
is  what  I  fear. — And  why  ?  what  have  you  to  lose  ? ' 

1  "  What  language !  Is  this,  then,  the  last  word  of  human  wisdom  ?  Has 
reason  been  given  to  man  only  to  be  sacrificed,  and  is  the  only  means  of 
believing  in  a  Supreme  Intelligence,  as  Pascal  desires  and  says,  that  of 
itupefying  ourselves  ?  This  terrible  sentence  pronounced  by  such  a  genius, 
and  by  a  genius  naturally  so  proud,  would  overwhelm  humanity,  if  there 
were  not  something  above  genius  itself,  common-sense.  This  same  reason 
that  Pascal  wishes,  but  in  vain,  to  stifle,  which  has  been  given  to  every 
man,  and  which  no  man  lacks,  in  any  country  or  at  any  time,  and  which 
persuades  all,  without  the  assistance  of  a  positive  revelation,  or  that  of 
arbitrary  demonstrations,  of  the  existence  of  a  spiritual  soul,  of  the  distinc- 
tion between  good  and  evil,  of  duty  and  equity,  of  liberty  and  the  responsi- 
bility of  actions,  of  an  eternal  justice,  of  a  divine  Providence  who  has  made 
every  thing  with  weight  and  measure,  who  possesses  in  an  infinite  degree 
all  the  attributes  that  manifest  themselves  in  his  works,  not  only  power 
and  grandeur,  but  liberty,  intelligence,  and  life.  All  these  grand  beliefs, 
for  which  Pascal  thirsts  like  the  entire  human  race,  common-sense  hu.-t 
revealed,  more  or  less  imperfectly,  from  the  first  day,  to  all  men ;  and, 
while  some  wandering  geniuses  have  had  the  misfortune  to  forget  them, 
the  most  exalted  geniuses  have  made  it  their  glory  to  establish  and  diffuse 
them.  They  are  the  patrimony  of  the  human  race,  its  treasure  in  the 
midst  of  all  its  miseries.  It  is  serving  the  human  race  very  ill  to  under- 
take to  rob  it  of  these  things  with  one  hand,  without  being  very  sure  of 
returning  them  with  the  other.  As  if,  moreover,  when  we  brutalize  mar, 
he  were  on  that  account  any  nearer  to  God!" — Gsusin.  We  see,  by  tlo 
above  passage,  that  M.  Cousin  takes  the  word  stupefy  in  its  most  rigorov.a 
acceptation.  MM.  Fauge're  and  Maynard  do  not  understand  it  in  the  same 
way. 

Saint  Paul :  "  Nemo  se  seducat :  si  quis  videtnr  inter  vos  sapiens  esse  iu 
noc  saeculo,  stultus  fiat  ut  sit  sapiens. — Sapientia  enim  hujus  mundi,  stul- 
titia  est  apud  Deum." — 1  Cor.  iii,  18,  19. 

"  In  Pascal  as  in  St.  Paul,  stupefy  ought  not  to  be  taken  literally,  but  ur 
the  profundity  of  the  Christiau  sense." — Faugere. 

"  According  to  the  excellent  observation  which  I  heard  M.  Ballai.ob» 


256  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

But  to  show  you  that  this  leads  to  it,  this  will  diminish  the 
passions,  which  are  your  great  obstacles,  etc. 

Now,  what  harm  will  come  to  you  in  taking  this  course  ? 
You  would  be  faithful,  virtuous,  humble,  grateful,  beneficent,  a 
sincere  friend,  truthful.  Truly,  you  would  not  be  given  up  to 
infectious  pleasures,  to  false  glory,  or  false  joys;  but  would 
you  not  have  other  pleasures  ? 

I  say  to  you  that  you  will  gain  by  it  in  this  life ;  and  that  at 
each  step  you  take  in  this  direction,  you  will  see  so  much  ot 
the  certainty  of  gain,  and  so  much  of  the  nothingness  of  what 
you  hazard,  that  you  will  acknowledge  in  the  end  that  you 
have  wagered  for  something  certain,  infinite,  for  which  you 
have  given  nothing. 

Oh !  this  discourse  transports  me,  delights  me,  etc. 

If  this  discourse  pleases  you  and  appears  to  you  strong, 
know  that  it  is  made  by  a  man  who  has  put  himself  on  his 
knees,  before  and  after,  to  pray  that  Being,  who  is  infinite  and 
without  parts,  and  to  whom  he  entirely  submits  himself,  that 
he  would  also  subject'  you  to  himself  for  your  good  and  his 
glory ;  and  that  thus  power  accords  with  this  weakness. 

*([  Those  who  hope  for  salvation  are  happy  in  that,  but  they 
have  a  counterpoise  in  the  fear  of  hell. — Who  has  the  most 
reason  to  fear  hell,  he  who  is  ignorant  that  there  is  a  hell,  and 
who  is  certain  of  damnation,  if  there  is  one ;  or  he  who  is 
surely  persuaded  that  there  is  a  hell,  and  has  hope  of  being 
saved,  if  there  is  ? 

•([  I  would  very  soon  abandon  these  pleasures,  they  say,  if 
1  had  faith.  And  I  answer :  You  would  very  soon  have  faith, 
if  you  had  abandoned  these  pleasures.  Now,  it  is  for  you  to 
begin.  If  I  could,  I  would  give  you  faith.  I  cannot  do  it ; 


make,  many  of  these  astonishing  and  exaggerated  words  that  surprise  us 
ill  the  scraps  of  Pascal  (such  as  this  will  stupefy  you)  may  well  be,  in  his 
tapid  stenography,  only  a  sort  of  mKemonic  for  securing  his  thought  more 
eadily  and  finding  ft  again  more  certainly.  These  words  would  not  have 
ippearcd  in  public,  and  the  thought  would  have  been  clothed  at  once  with 
more  propriety  and  truth,  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  subject." — Sainte* 
Btuve. 


CHAPTER   XI.  257 

and,  consequently  I  cannot  prove  the  truth  of  what  you  say. 
But  you  may  easily  quit  your  pleasures,  and  experience 
whether  what  I  say  is  true. 

^[  Whoever,  having  but  a  week  to  live,  shall  not  find 
that  the  way  is  to  believe  that  all  this  is  but  a  strcke  of 
chance.  .  .  . 

Now,  if  the  passions  do  not  hold  us,  a  week  and  a  hundred 
years  are  the  same. 

n. 

The  metaphysical  proofs  of  God  are  so  remote  from  the  rea- 
soning of  men,  and  so  complicated,  that  they  make  but  little 
impression  ;  and  even  were  this  to  serve  some  persons,  it 
would  be  only  during  the  instant  of  their  seeing  the  demon- 
stration, and  an  hour  afterwards  they  would  fear  they  had  been 
deceived. 

Quod  curiositate  cognoverint  superbia  amiserunt. 

This  is  what  produces  the  knowledge  of  God,  which  is  de- 
duced without  JESUS  CHRIST,  which  is  to  communicate  with- 
out mediator,  with  the  God  whom  we  have  known  without 
mediator.  Whilst  those  who  have  known  God  by  a  mediator 
know  their  misery. 

JESUS  CHRIST  is  the  object  of  all,  and  the  centre  whither  all 
tends.  Whoever  knows  him  knows  the  reason  of  all  things. 

Those  who  go  astray,  go  astray  only  because  they  do  not 
see  one  of  these  two  things.  We  can  then  indeed  know  God 
without  knowing  our  misery,  and  our  misery  without  knowing 
God ;  but  we  cannot  know  JESCS  CHRIST  without  knowing 
both  God  and  our  misery. 

And  this  is  why  I  will  not  undertake  here  to  prove  by  nat- 
ural reasons,  hither  the  existence  of  God,  the  Trinity,  or  the 
immortality  of  the  soul,  or  any  thing  else  of  this  nature;  not 
5nly  because  I  should  not  feel  myself  strong  enough  to  find  in 
nature  wherewith  to  convince  hardened  atheists,  but  also  be- 
cause this  knowledge,  without  JESUS  CHRIST,  is  useless  and 
barren.  Even  were  a  man  persuaded  that  the  proportions  of 
aumbera  are  truths  immaterial,  eternal,  and  dependent  on  a 


'258  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

primary  truth  in  which  they  subsist,  and  which  we  call  God, 
I  should  not  find  him  much  advanced  towards  his  salvation. 

Ill 

It  is  a  surprising  thing  that  no  canonical  author  has  ever 
made  use  of  nature  to  prove  the  existence  of  God.  They  al. 
tend  to  establish  the  belief  of  this  truth  :  David,  Solomon,  etc., 
have  never  said :  There  is  no  void,  therefore  there  is  a  God. 
They  must  have  been  more  able  than  the  ablest  of  those  who 
have  come  after  them,  who  have  all  made  use  of  it.  This  is 
very  considerable.1 

^[  ...  If  it  is  a  mark  of  weakness  to  prove  the  existence  of 
God  by  nature,  do  not  despise  the  Scripture  for  it :  if  it  is  a 
mark  of  strength  to  have  known  these  contrarieties,  esteem  the 
Scripture  for  it. 

IV. 

. . .  For  we  must  not  mistake  ourselves,  we  are  automaton1 
as  much  as  mind ;  and  hence  it  comes  that  the  instrument  by 


1  "  No,  truly,  this  is  not  very  considerable ;  for  nothing  is  more  mani- 
festly false.  The  holy  Scriptures  are  not  a  course  of  physics :  they  do  not 
employ  the  language  of  science,  and  still  less  that  of  any  particular  sys- 
tem ;  they  do  not  say :  There  is  no  void,  therefore  there  is  a  God,  a  whim- 
sical argument  which  is  to  be  found  nowhere,  except  perhaps  in  some  ob- 
scure Cartesian ;  but  they  teach,  and  this  on  every  page,  and  in  every  way, 
that  the  Heavens  declare  his  glory.  .  .  Does  not  St.  Paul  say :  '  That  which 
may  be  known  of  God  is  manifest  in  them  ;  for  God  hath  showed  it  unto 
them.  For  the  invisible  things  of  him  from  the  creation  of  the  world  are 
clearly  seen,  being  understood  by  the  things  that  are  made,  even  his  eter- 
nal power  and  Godhead.'  " — Cousin. 

3  "  M.  Pascal  spoke  little  of  the  sciences ;  nevertheless,  when  the  occasion 
presented  itself,  he  gave  his  opinion  on  things  of  which  people  were  speak- 
ing. For  example,  in  regard  to  the  philosophy  of  M.  Descartes,  he  said  with- 
out hesitation  what  he  thought ;  he  was  of  his  opinion  in  regard  to  the 
automaton,  and  was  not  of  his  opjiion  in  regard  to  subtile  matter,  which 
he  ridiculed  very  much;  but  he  could  not  endure  his  manner  of  explain- 
ing the  formation  of  all  things,  aud  he  very  often  said :  '  I  cannot  pardon 
Descartes ;  he  would  very  much  like,  in  all  his  philosophy,  to  dispense 
I7ith  God ;  but  he  has  not  been  able  to  escape  according  him  a  fillip  to  put 
{he  world  in  motion ;  after  that  he  has  nothing  more  to  do  with  God.' ' 
—Mademoiselle  Perier. 


CHAPTER   XI.  259 

which  persuasion  is  made,  is  not  the  only  demonstration.  Ho\v 
few  things  are  demonstrated  !  Proofs  convince  only  the  mind. 
Custom  makes  our  strongest  and  hardest  proofs;  it  influence? 
/he  automaton,  which  carries  along  the  mind  without  its  being 
aware  of  it.  Who  has  demonstrated  that  there  will  be  a  to- 
morrow, and  that  we  shall  die?  and  what  is  more  believed? 
It  is  custom,  then,  that  persuades  us  of  these  things ;  it  is  cus- 
tom that  makes  so  many  Christians,  it  is  custom  that  makes 
Turks,  pagans,  trades,  soldiers,  etc.  In  fine,  we  must  have 
recourse  to  custom  when  once  the  mind  has  seen  where  the 
truth  is,  in  order  to  drench  and  dye  ourselves  in  this  belief, 
which  escapes  us  at  every  hour :  for  to  have  the  proofs  always 
present  would  be  impossible.  We  must  acquire  a  more  easy 
belief,  which  is  that  of  habit,  which,  without  violence,  without 
art,  without  argument,  makes  us  believe  things,  and  inclines 
all  our  powers  to  this  belief,  so  that  our  soul  falls  into  it  nat- 
urally. When  we  believe  only  from  the  force  of  conviction, 
and  the  automaton  is  inclined  to  believe  the  contrary,  it  is  not 
enough.  Both  our  powers  must  be  made  to  believe  :  the  mind, 
by  reason,  which  suffices  to  have  examined  but  once ;  and  the 
automaton,  by  custom,  which  does  not  permit  it  to  incline  tc 
the  contrary.  Inclina  cor  meum,  Deus. 


260  PASCAL. — THOUGHTS. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

[THE  MARKS  sr  WHICH  WE  MAT  KNOW  THAT  A  BELIGION  is  TEUB,  AND  HOW 

THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION  CARRIES  IN  ITSELF  THE  PROOFS  OF  ITS  TRUTH] . 

I. 

TRUE  religion  should  be  marked  by  the  obligation  to  love 
God.  This  is  very  just.  And  yet  no  other  than  ours  has 
ever  enjoined  it ;  ours  has.  It  ought  also  to  have  recognized 
the  concupiscence  and  the  impotency  of  man ;  ours  has.  It 
ought  to  have  brought  us  remedies ;  one  is  prayer.  No  re- 
ligion has  asked  of  God  to  love  and  follow  him. 

II. 

The  true  nature  of  man,  his  true  good,  and  true  virtue,  and 
true  religion,  are  things  the  knowledge  of  which  is  insepa- 
rable. 

^[  After  having  understood  the  nature  of  man. — A  religion, 
to  be  true,  must  have  known  our  nature.  It  should  hav« 
known  its  greatness  and  its  littleness,  and  the  reason  of  both 
What  religion  has  known  this  but  the  Christian  ? 

III. 

Other  religions,  as  those  of  the  pagans,  are  more  popular, 
for  they  are  external ;  but  they  are  not  for  people  of  capacity 
A  religion  purely  intellectual  would  be  better  adapted  to  the 
capable  ;  but  it  would  be  of  no  use  to  the  people.  The  Chris- 
tian religion  alone  is  adapted  to  all,  being  a  mixture  of  the 
3xternal  and  the  internal.  It  elevates  the  people  internally, 
and  abases  the  proud  externally ;  and  is  not  perfect  without 
both,  for  it  is  necessary  that  the  people  should  understand  the 
spirit  of  the  letter,  and  that  the  learned  should  submit  their 
»pirit  to  the  letter. 


CHAPTER    XII.  261 

^[  The  external  must  be  joined  to  the  internal  to  obtain  of 
God,  that  is,  that  we  bend  the  knee,  pray  with  the  lips,  etc.,  in 
order  that  proud  man,  who  has  been  unwilling  to  submit  him- 
self to  God.  may  now  be  submitted  to  the  creature.  To  ex 
pect  relief  from  the  external  is  superstition ;  not  to  be  willing 
to  join  it  to  the  internal  is  to  be  proud. 

IV. 

No  other  religion  has  proposed  to  us  to  hate  ourselves.  No 
other  religion,  then,  can  please  those  who  hate  themselves, 
and  who  are  seeking  a  truly  amiable  being.  And  they,  if  they 
had  never  heard  of  the  religion  of  a  humiliated  God,  would 
embrace  it  incontinently. 

^[  . . .  No  other  has  recognized  man  to  be  the  most  excel- 
lent creature.  Some  who  have  known  well  the  reality  of  his 
excellence  have  taken  for  cowardice  and  ingratitude  the  low 
sentiments  that  men  naturally  have  of  themselves  ;  others,  who 
have  known  well  how  effective  is  this  baseness,  have  treated 
as  supremely  ridiculous  those  sentiments  of  greatness  which  are 
also  natural  to  man. 

Raise  your  eyes  toward  God,  say  some ;  consider  him  whom 
you  resemble,  and  who  made  you  to  adore  him.  You  may 
become  like  him ;  wisdom  will  make  you  equal  to  him,  if  you 
will  follow  it.  Others  say :  Bend  your  eyes  to  the  ground, 
miserable  worm  that  you  are,  and  regard  the  brutes,  whose 
companion  you  are. 

What,  then,  shall  become  of  man  ?  Shall  he  be  equal  tc 
God,  or  to  the  brutes  ?  What  a  frightful  distance !  What 
shall  we  be,  then  ?  Who  does  not  see  by  all  this  that  man  is 
astray,  that  he  is  fallen  from  his  place,  that  he  seeks  it  with 
anxiety,  that  he  can  never  find  it  again  ?  And  who,  then,  will 
direct  him  to  it  ?  The  greatest  men  have  not  been  able  to 
do  it. 

^[  No  religion  but  ours  has  taught  that  man  is  born  in  sin  ; 
ao  sect  of  philosophers  has  ever  taught  it;  none,  then,  haa 
tpoken  the  truth. 


262  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

Y. 

That  God  wished  to  be  concealed. — If  there  were  but  one 
religion,  God  would  be  very  manifest.  If  there  were  no  mar 
tyrs  but  in  our  religion,  the  same. 

. . .  Thus,  God  being  concealed,  every  religion  that  does  not 
say  that  God  is  concealed  is  not  true ;  and  every  religion  which 
does  not  render  a  reason  for  this,  is  not  instructive.  Ours  doea 
all  this  :  Vere  tu  es  Deus  absconditus. 

^[  Perpetuity. — This  religion,  which  consists  in  the  belief 
of  man's  fall  from  a  state  of  glory  and  communication  with 
God,  into  a  state  of  sorrow,  penitence,  and  estrangement  from 
God,  but  that  after  this  life  we  shall  be  re-established  by  a 
Messiah  who  is  to  come,  has  always  been  in  the  world.  All 
things  have  passed  away,  but  this  has  remained,  foi  which  all 
other  things  exist. 

Men  in  the  first  age  of  the  world  were  led  into  all  kinds  of 
disorders,  but  there  were,  nevertheless,  saints,  such  as  Enoch, 
Lamech,  and  others,  who  waited  in  patience  for  CHRIST,  prom 
ised  from  the  beginning  of  the  world.  Noah  saw  the  malice 
of  men  in  its  highest  degree  ;  and  he  merited  to  save  the  world 
in  his  own  person,  by  the  hope  of  the  Messiah,  of  whom  he 
was  the  figure.  Abraham  was  surrounded  with  idolaters,  when 
God  made  known  to  him  the  mystery  of  the  Messiah,  whom 
he  saluted  a  long  way  off.  In  the  days  of  Isaac  and  Jacob, 
abomination  was  spread  over  the  whole  earth ;  but  these  saints 
lived  in  faith ;  and  Jacob,  dying,  and  blessing  his  children,  ex- 
claims, in  a  transport  that  interrupts  his  discourse,  "  I  wait, 
0  my  God,  the  Saviour  whom  thou  hast  promised  :  Salutare 
tuum  exspectabo,  Domine? 

The  Egyptians  were  infected  both  with  idolatry  and  magic ; 
the  people  of  God,  even,  were  carried  away  by  their  example, 
But,  nevertheless,  Moses  and  others  believed  in  him  whora 
they  saw  not,  and  adored  him,  regarding  the  eternal  gifts  that 
he  prepared  for  them. 

Then  the  Greeks  and  the  Latins  enthroned  false  deities 
the  poets  made  a  hundred  different  theologies;  the  philosopher* 


CHAPTER   XIL  263 

were  divided  into  a  thousand  different  sects:  and  yet  there 
were  always  in  the  heart  of  Judaea  some  chosen  men,  who  fore- 
told the  coming  of  this  Messiah,  who  was  known  to  them 
alone. 

At  length,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  he  came :  and  since,  we 
have  seen  so  many  schisms  and  heresies  spring  up,  so  many 
States  overturned,  so  many  changes  in  all  things ;  and  thia 
Church,  which  adores  him  who  has  always  been  adored,  has 
subsisted  without  interruption.  And  what  is  wonderful,  incom- 
parable, and  altogether  divine  is,  that  this  religion,  which  has 
always  endured,  has  always  been  combated.  A  thousand 
times  has  it  been  on  the  eve  of  universal  destruction ;  and 
every  time  that  it  has  been  in  this  condition,  God  has  raised  it 
up  by  some  extraordinary  stroke  of  his  power.  It  is  astonish- 
ing that  it  has  maintained  itself  without  yielding  or  submitting 
to  the  will  of  tyrants.  For  it  is  not  strange  that  a  State  sub- 
sists even  when  its  laws  are  sometimes  made  to  yield  to  neces- 
sity, but  that .... 

•[  Figures. — God,  wishing  to  form  to  himself  a  holy  people, 
whom  he  would  separate  from  all  other  nations,  whom  he 
would  deliver  from  their  enemies,  whom  he  would  put  in  a 
place  of  rest,  promised  to  do  it,  and  foretold  by  his  prophets 
the  time  and  the  manner  of  his  coming.  And,  in  the  mean 
while,  to  confirm  the  hope  of  his  elect  in  all  time,  he  exhibited 
to  them  the  image  of  it,  without  ever  leaving  them  without 
some  assurances  of  his  power  and  of  his  will  for  their  salva- 
tion. For,  in  the  creation  of  man,  Adam  was  the  witness  of 
it,  and  the  depositary  of  the  promise  of  the  Saviour,  who  waa 
to  be  born  of  the  woman.  When  men  were  still  so  near  to 
the  creation  that  they  could  not  have  forgotten  their  creation 
and  their  fall,  when  those  who  had  -seen  Adam  were  no  longci 
in  the  world,  God  sent  Noah,  whom  he  saved,  and  drowned 
the  whole  world  by  a  miracle  which  sufficiently  indicated 
ooth  his  power  to  save  the  world,  and  his  intention  to  do  so, 
and  raise  up  from  the  seed  of  the  woman  him  whom  he  had 
promised.  This  miracle  is  sufficient  to  confiim  the  hope  ol 
men. . 


264  PASCAL. 1HOUGHT8. 

The  memory  of  the  deluge  being  still  so  fresh  airong  men, 
while  Noah  still  lived,1  God  made  his  promises  to  Abraham, 
and  while  Shem  still  lived,  God  sent  Moses,  etc. . . . 

VI. 

States  would  perish  if  their  laws  did  not  often  yield  to  ne- 
cessity. But  religion  has  never  suffered  this,  and  it  has  never 
made  use  of  it.  But  it  must  have  such  compliances  or  mira- 
cles. It  is  not  strange  that  States  preserve  themselves  by 
yielding,  and  this  is  not,  properly  speaking,  maintaining  them- 
selves ;  and  still  they  would  perish,  at  last :  there  is  not  one  of 
them  that  has  endured  for  a  thousand  years.1  But  that  this 
religion  has  always  maintained  itself  inflexible, — this  is  divine. 

VII. 

There  would  be  too  much  obscurity,  if  truth  had  not  some 
visible  signs.  It  is  a  wonderful  sign  that  it  has  always  been 
preserved  in  a  Church  and  visible  assembly.  There  would  be 
too  much  light  if  there  were  but  one  opinion  in  this  Church ; 
but  to  know  which  is  the  true,  we  have  only  to  see  that  which 
has  always  existed  in  the  Church ;  for  it  is  certain  that  the 
true  has  always  existed  in  it,  and  that  no  false  opinion  has 
always  existed  in  it. 

Perpetuity. — Thus,  the  Messiah  has  always  been  believed. 
The  tradition  of  Adam  was  still  new  in  Noah,  and  in  Moses. 
The  prophets  subsequently  foretold  him,  at  the  same  time  pre- 
dicting other  things,  which,  being  fulfilled  from  time  to  time, 
before  the  eyes  of  men,  showed  the  truth  of  their  mission,  and, 
consequently,  that  of  their  promises  touching  the  Messiah. 
Jesus  Christ  wrought  miracles ;  so  did  the  Apostles,  who  con- 
verted all  the  Gentiles ;  and  all  the  prophecies  being  thus  ful- 
filled, the  Messiah  is  forever  established. 


1  Here  Pascal  is  mistaken  ;  Noah  and  Shem  no  longer  lived  at  the  mo- 
ment spoken  of  in  this  paragraph. 
*  VAB.  OF  PORT-ROYAL  :  "  Fifteen  hundred  years." 


CHAPTEK  xn.  265 

vm. 

In  seeing  the  blindness  and  the  misery  of  man,  in  beholding 
the  whole  universe  dumb,  and  man  without  light,  abandoned 
to  himself,  and,  as  it  were,  strayed  into  this  nook  of  the  uni- 
verse, not  knowing  who  placed  him  here,  what  he  came  to  do, 
what  shall  become  of  him  at  death,  I  am  affrighted  like  a  man ' 
who  should  be  carried  sleeping  into  a  frightful  desert  island, 
and  awakened  without  knowing  where  he  is,  and  without 
means  of  escape.  And  for  this  reason  I  wonder  how  one 
does  not  go  into  despair  at  so  miserable  a  state.  I  see  other 
persons  near  me  of  like  nature :  I  ask  them  whether  they  are 
better  informed  than  I,  they  answer  me  no ;  and,  thereupon, 
these  miserable  wanderers,  having  looked  around  them,  and 
having  seen  a  few  pleasant  objects,  have  given  themselves  up 
to  them,  and  have  become  attached  to  them.  For  myself,  I 
have  not  been  able  to  become  attached  to  them,  and,  consider- 
ing how  much  more  there  is  of  appearance  than  any  thing  else 
than  what  I  see,  I  have  sought  to  discover  whether  God  has 
not  left  some  signs  of  himself. 

I  see  many  contrary  religions,  consequently  they  are  all 
false,  except  one.  Each  wishes  to  be  believed  on  its  own  au- 
thority, and  threatens  the  incredulous.  I  do  not  therefore  be- 
lieve them  on  this  account ;  any  one  can  say  this,  any  one  can 
say  he  is  a  prophet.  But  I  behold  the  Christian  religion 
where  I  find  prophecies,  and  these  every  one  cannot  make. 

IX. 

The  only  religion  against  nature,  against  common-sense, 
against  our  pleasures,  is  the  only  one  that  has  always  existed. 


The  whole  conduct  of  things  ought  to  have  for  its  object 
the  establishment  and  the  grandeur  of  religion ;  men  ought  to 


»  VAB,  OF  MS. :  "  Like  a  child"  (erased). 
12 


PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

have  in  themselves  sentiments  in  conformity  with  what  it 
teaches ;  and,  in  fine,  religion  ought  so  to  be  the  object  and 
the  centre  to  which  all  things  tend,  that  whoever  shall  know 
its  principles  will  be  able  to  give  a  reason  both  of  the  whole 
nature  of  man  in  particular,  and  of  the  whole  conduct  of  the 
world  in  general. 

^[  .  . .  They  blaspheme  what  they  know  not.  The  Chris- 
tian religion  consists  in  two  points.  It  is  equally  important 
for  men  to  know  them,  and  it  is  equally  dangerous  to  be  igno- 
rant of  them.  And  it  is  equally  indicative  of  God's  mercy  to 
have  shown  signs  of  both. 

And  nevertheless  they  take  as  a  ground  for  inferring  that 
one  of  these  points  is  not,  what  should  make  them  infer  the 
other.  The  sages  who  have  said  that  there  is  a  God  have  been 
persecuted,  the  Jews  hated,  the  Christians  still  more.  They 
have  seen  by  the  light  of  nature  that,  if  there  is  a  true  religion 
on  earth,  the  conduct  of  all  things  ought  to  tend  thither  as  to 
their  centre.  And  on  this  foundation,  they  undertake  to  blas- 
pheme the  Christian  religion,  because  they  understand  it  ill. 
They  imagine  that  it  consists  simply  in  the  adoration  of  a  God 
considered  as  great,  and  powerful,  and  eternal ;  which  is  prop- 
erly deism,  almost  as  far  from  the  Christian  religion  as  athe- 
ism, which  is  wholly  contrary  to  it.  And  thence  they  conclude 
that  this  religion  is  not  true,  because  they  do  not  see  that  all 
things  concur  in  the  establishment  of  this  point, — that  God 
does  not  manifest  himself  to  men  with  all  the  evidence  that  he 
might  manifest. 

But  let  them  infer  from  this  what  they  will  against  deism, 
they  will  infer  nothing  against  the  Christian  religion,  which 
properly  consists  in  the  mystery  of  the  Redeemer,  who,  uniting 
in  himself  the  two  natures,  human  and  divine,  has  drawn  men 
from  the  corruption  of  sin  to  reconcile  them  to  God  in  his 
divine  person. 

It  therefore  teaches  men  these  two  truths :  that  there  is  a 
God  whom  men  are  capable  of  knowing,  and  that  there  is  a 
corruption  in  their  nature  which  renders  them  unworthy  of  it 
It  is  equally  important  for  men  to  know  both  of  these  points 


CHAPTER  xn.  267 

and  it  is  equally  dangerous  for  man  to  know  God  without 
knowing  his  misery,  and  to  know  his  misery  without  knowing 
the  Redeemer,  who  can  cure  him  of  it.  One  alone  of  these 
knowledges  causes  either  the  pride  of  the  philosophers,  who 
have  known  God  and  not  their  misery,  or  the  despair  of  th 
atheists,  who  know  their  misery  without  the  Redeemer.  And 
thus,  as  it  is  equally  necessary  for  man  to  know  these  two 
points,  it  is  also  equally  merciful  in  God  to  have  shown  them 
to  us.  The  Christian  religion  does  it ;  it  is  in  this  that  it 
consists.  Let  one  examine  the  order  of  the  world  in  regard  to 
this  point,  and  let  one  see  whether  all  things  do  not  tend  to 
the  establishment  of  the  two  fundamental  principles  of  this 
religion. 

XL 

If  one  does  not  know  himself  to  be  full  of  pride,  ambition, 
concupiscence,  weakness,  misery,  and  injustice,  he  is  blind  in- 
deed. And  if,  knowing  this,  one  does  not  desire  to  be  deliv- 
ered from  it,  what  can  be  said  of  a  man  ?  .  . .  .  What  can  one 
have  then  but  esteem  for  a  religion  which  knows  the  defects 
of  man  so  well,  and  desire  for  the  truth  of  a  religion  which 
promises  for  him  remedies  so  desirable  ? 

XII. 

PROOF. — 1°.  The  Christian  religion  by  its  establishment : 
by  itself  establishes  so  strongly,  so  mildly,  being  so  contrary 
to  nature. — 2°.  The  holiness,  the  loftiness,  and  the  humility  of 
a  Christian  soul. — '3°.  The  wonders  of  the  holy  Scripture. — 4°. 
JESUS  CHRIST  in  particular. — 5°.  The  apostles  in  particular. 
— 6°.  Moses  and  the  prophets  in  particular. — 7°.  The  Jewish 
people. — 8°.  The  prophecies. — 9°.  Perpetuity.  No  religion 
has  perpetuity, — 10°.  The  doctrine  that  renders  a  reason  for 
every  thing. — 11°.  The  holiness  of  this  law. — 12°.  By  the  con- 
duct of  the  world. 

It  is  indubitable  that  after  this  we  ought  not  to  refuse,  con- 
sidering what  life  is,  and  this  religion,  to  follow  the  inclination 
of  following  it,  if  it  comes  in  our  heart ;  and  it  is  certain  thai 
there  is  no  occasion  of  laughing  at  those  who  follow  it. 


PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

[THAT  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION  is  THE  ONLY  ONE  THAT  HAKES  HAN  UNDER- 
STAND THE  CONTRADICTION  OF  HIS  HI8ERT  AND  HIS  GREATNESS  ;  AND  THAt 
THE  PHILOSOPHIC  SECTS  ARE  UNABLE  TO  QIYE  ,71119  KNOWLEDGE.] 


After  having  explained  the  incomprehensibility? — The  great- 
ness and  the  misery  of  man  are  so  visible,  that  the  true  religion 
must,  necessarily,  teach  us  both  that  there  is  some  great  prin- 
ciple of  greatness  in  man,  and  that  there  is  a  great  principle  of 
misery.  It  must,  therefore,  give  us  a  reason  for  these  astonish- 
ing contrarieties. 

In  order  to  make  man  happy,  religion  must  show  him  that 
there  is  a  God ;  that  we  are  obliged  to  love  him ;  that  our  true 
felicity  is  to  be  in  him,  and  our  only  evil  to  be  separated  from 
him;  that  it  recognizes  that  we  are  full  of  darkness,  which 
prevents  us  from  knowing  him  and  loving  him ;  and  that  thus 
our  duties  obliging  us  to  love  God,  and  our  passions  turning  us 
from  it,  we  are  full  of  injustice.  Religion  must  render  us  a 
reason  for  this  opposition  which  we  have  to  God  and  to  our 
own  good ;  she  must  teach  us  the  remedies  for  these  impoten- 
cies,  and  the  means  of  obtaining  these  remedies,  Let  us  ex- 
amine on  this  subject  all  the  religions  in  the  world,  and  let  us 
see  whether  there  is  one  of  them  other  than  the  Christian 
that  would  satisfy  us  in  this  respect. 

Shall  it  be  the  philosophers,  who  offer  us  as  the  chief  good 
the  goods  that  are  in  us  ?  Is  this  the  true  good  ?  Have  they 
found  the  remedy  for  our  ills  ?  Is  it  to  cure  the  presumption 
of  man  to  make  him  equal  to  God  ?  Those  who  have  made 
as  equal  with  the  brutes,  and  the  Mahometans  who  have  given 

*  That  is :  After  having  shown  that  man  is  incomprehensible. 


CHAPTER  xm.  269 

as  the  pleasures  of  the  world  for  the  chief  good,  even  in  eter- 
nity,— have  they  given  us  a  remedy  for  our  passions  ? 

What  religion  will  teach  us  then  to  cure  our  pride  and  con- 
cupiscence ?  What  religion,  in  a  word,  will  teach  us  our  good, 
our  duties,  the  weaknesses  that  turn  us  from  them,  the  cause 
of  these  weaknesses,  the  remedies  that  can  cure  them,  and  the 
means  of  obtaining  these  remedies  ?  All  the  other  religions 
have  not  been  able  to  do  it.  Let  us  see  what  the  Wisdom  of 
God  will  do. 

Do  not,  it  says,  expect  either  truth  or  consolation  from  men. 
I  am  that  which  formed  you,  and  which  alone  can  tell  you  who 
you  are.  But  you  are  now  no  longer  in  the  state  in  which  I 
formed  you.  I  created  man  holy,  innocent,  perfect ;  I  filled  him 
with  light  and  intelligence ;  I  communicated  to  him  my  glory 
and  my  wonders.  Then  the  eye  of  man  saw  the  majesty  of 
God.  Then  he  was  not  in  the  darkness  that  blinds  him,  nor 
in  the  mortality  and  the  miseries  that  afflict  him.  But  he 
could  not  endure  so  much  glory  without  falling  into  presump- 
tion. He  wished  to  render  himself  the  centre  of  himself,  and 
independent  of  my  aid.  He  withdrew  himself  from  my  do- 
minion, and,  making  himself  equal  to  me,  by  the  desire  of  find- 
og  his  felicity  in  himself,  I  abandoned  him  to  himself;  and, 
causing  the  creatures  to  revolt  against  him,  which  had  been 
subjected  to  him,  I  rendered  them  his  enemies :  so  that  to-day 
man  has  become  like  unto  the  brutes,  and  in  such  estrange- 
ment from  me,  that  he  has  hardly  a  confused  glimmering  of 
his  author  :  to  such  a  degree  have  his  powers  been  extin- 
guished or  disturbed !  The  senses,  independent  of  the  reason, 
and  often  masters  of  the  reason,  have  carried  him  away  in  the 
search  after  pleasures.  All  creatures  either  afflict  or  tempt 
him,  and  rule  over  him,  either  subjecting  him  by  their  force, 
or  charming  him  by  their  blandishments,  which  is  a  domina- 
tion still  more  terrible  and  more  imperious.  Such  is  the  state 
in  which  men  now  are.  There  remains  to  them  a  powerful 
Instinct  of  the  happiness  of  their  primitive  nature,  and  they  are 
plunged  into  the  miseries  of  their  blindness  and  desire,  which 
have  become  their  second  nature. 


270  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

From  this  principle  which  I  am  explaining  to  you,  you  may 
recognize  the  cause  of  so  many  contrarieties  which  have  aston- 
ished all  men,  and  which  have  divided  them  into  such  dif 
ferent  sentiments.  Observe  all  the  emotions  of  greatness  and 
glory  which  the  trial  of  so  many  miseries  cannot  stifle,  and  see 
whether  the  cause  must  not  be  in  another  nature. 

Prosopopceia. —  ...  It  is  in  vain,  0  men !  that  you  seek  in 
yourselves  the  remedy  for  your  miseries.  All  the  light  you 
have  only  shows  you  that  it  is  not  in  yourselves  that  you 
will  find  either  truth  or  good.  The  philosophers  have  prom- 
ised you  both,  and  they  have  not  been  able  to  give  you  either. 
They  know  not  either  what  is  your  veritable  good,  or  what  ia 
your  veritable  state.1  How  should  they  give  you  remedies  for 
your  ills,  when  they  have  not  even  known  them  ?  Your  prin- 
cipal maladies  are  pride,  which  separates  you  from  God,  con- 
cupiscence, which  attaches  you  to  earth ;  and  they  have  done 
nothing  else  than  foster,  at  least  one  of  these  maladies.  If 
they  have  given  you  God  for  your  object,  it  has  only  been  to 
exercise  your  pride  :  they  have  made  you  think  that  you  are 
similar  to  him  by  your  nature.  And  those  who  have  seen  the 
vanity  of  this  pretension  have  hurled  you  over  the  other  preci- 
pice, in  teaching  you  that  your  nature  was  similar  to  that  of 
brutes,  and  have  led  you  to  seek  your  good  in  the  desires  that 
you  have  in  common  with  animals.  This  is  not  the  way  of 
curing  you  of  your  iniquities,  which  these  sages  have  not 
known.  I  alone  can  teach  you  who  you  are  .... 

^[  If  you  are  united  to  God,  it  must  be  by  grace,  not  by 
nature.  If  you  are  humbled,  it  must  be  by  penitence,  not  by 
nature. 

1  After  these  words  Pascal  had  written  at  first :  "  I  am  the  only  one  that 
can  teach  you  these  things ;  I  teach  them  to  those  who  listen  to  me.  The 
books  that  I  have  put  in  the  hands  of  men  discover  them  very  clearly. 
But  I  have  not  wished  that  this  knowledge  should  be  so  open.  I  teach 
man  what  can  render  them  happy ;  why  do  you  refuse  to  hear  me  I  Seek 
no  satisfaction  on  the  earth :  hope  nothing  from  men.  Your  good  ia  onlj 
3i  God,  and  the  sovereign  felicity  consists  in  knowing  God,  in  uniting  our- 
selves  to  him  in  eternity.  Your  duty  is  to  love  him  with  all  your  heart 
Pe  has  created  you  .  . .  .  "  (erased). 


CHAPTER   XIII.  271 

^[  . . .  These  two  states  being  explained,  it  is  impossible  that 
fou  should  not  recognize  them.  Trace  your  own  emotions, 
observe  yourselves,  and  see  whether  you  will  not  find  the  living 
characters  of  these  two  natures.  Would  so  many  contradic- 
tions be  found  in  a  simple  subject? 

•[["  ...  I  do  not  mean  that  you  should  submit  your  belief  to 
me  without  reason,  and  do  not  pretend  to  subject  you  with 
tyranny.  Neither  do  I  pretend  to  give  you  a  reason  for  all 
things ;  and  in  order  to  reconcile  these  contrarieties,  I  mean 
to  show  you  clearly,  by  convincing  proofs,  divine  marks  in 
myself,  which  shall  convince  you  of  what  I  am,  and  clothe  me 
with  authority  by  marvels  and  proofs  which  you  cannot  refuse  ; 
and  that,  in  course,  you  may  surely  believe  the  things  that  I 
teach  you,  when  you  shall  find  in  them  no  cause  for  rejecting 
them,  except  that  you  may  be  unable  by  yourselves  to  know 
whether  they  are  or  not.1 

^[  If  there  is  a  single  principle  of  every  thing,  a  single  end 
of  every  thing  :  every  thing  thereby,  every  thing  therefor 
True  religion  must  teach  us  then  to  adore  only  him,  and  to 
love  only  him.  But,  as  we  find  ourselves  incapable  of  adoring 
what  we  do  not  know,  of  loving  any  other  thing  than  our- 
selves, religion,  which  instructs  us  in  these  duties,  must  also 
instruct  us  in  regard  to  this  inability,  and  must  teach  us  also 
ihe  remedies.  She  apprises  us  that  by  one  man9  every  thing 
was  lost,  and  the  connection  broken  between  God  and  us,  and 
that  by  one  man 3  the  connection  has  been  restored. 

We  are  born  so  adverse  to  this  love  of  God,  and  it  is  so 
necessary,  that  it  must  be  we  are  born  guilty,  or  God  would 
be  unjust. 

II. 

Original  sin"  is  foolishness  to  men,  but  it  is  given  out  aa 
such.  You  should  not  reproach  me  with  the  want  of  reason 
in  this  doctrine,  since  I  give  it  out  as  being  without  reason. 
But  this  foolishness  is  wiser  tban  all  the  wisdom  of  men,  sapi- 

1  The  reader  will  observe  that  the  divine  Wisdom,  mentioned  above,  u 
still  speaking.  •  Adam.  »  Jesus  Christ. 


272  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

entius  est  kominibus.1  Foi,  without  this,  what  will  it  be  said 
that  man  is  ?  His  whole  condition  depends  upon  this  imper- 
ceptible point.  And  how  could  he  have  discovered  this  by  his 
reason,  seeing  that  it  is  a  thing  above  his  reason,  and  that  his 
reason,  very  far  from  discovering  it  by  itself  revolts  from  it 
when  it  is  presented  to  it  ? 

m. 

This  duplicity  of  man  is  so  obvious,  that  some  have  thought 
that  we  possess  two  souls:*  a  simple  subject  appearing  to 
them  incapable  of  such  great  and  so  sudden  varieties,  from  an 
immeasurable  presumption,  to  a  horrible  dejection  of  heart. 

^[  All  these  contrarieties,  which  seemed  the  most  to  lead 
me  away  from  the  knowledge  of  religion,  are  what  have  soonest 
led  me  to  the  true. 

^[  For  myself,  I  confess  that  as  soon  as  the  Christian  reli- 
gion discovers  the  principle  that  human  nature  is  corrupted 
and  fallen  from  God,  this  opens  our  eyes  to  see  everywhere  the 
character  of  this  truth :  for  nature  is  such,  that  it  everywhere 
indicates  a  God  lost,  both  in  man  and  out  of  man,  and  a  cor- 
rupt nature. 

^j[  Without  this  divine  knowledge,  what  have  men  been  able 
to  do,  except,  either  to  elevate  themselves  by  the  internal  sen- 
timents which  remains  to  them  of  their  past  greatness,  or  tc 
*base  themselves  in  view  of  their  present  weakness  ?s  For,  not 
seeing  the  entire  truth,  they  have  not  been  able  to  arrive  at 
perfect  virtue.  Some  considering  nature  as  uncorrupted,  others 

1  "  The  foolishness  of  God  is  wiser  than  men." — 1  Cor.,  i,  25. 

1  "  Cette  variation  et  contradiction  qui  se  veoid  en  nous,  si  uouple,  a  faict 
i  .ie  aulcuns  nous  songent  deux  ames,  d'aultres  deux  puissances,  qui  nous 
l».*compaignent  et  ngitent  chascune  a  sa  mode,  vers  le  bien  1'une,  1'aultra 
rets  le  mal :  nne  si  brusque  diversite  ne  se  pouvant  bien  assortir  &  un  sa- 
biect  simple  " — Montaigne. 

1  VAB.  OF  MS. :  "  In  this  impotency  of  seeing  the  entire  truth,  if  they 
knew  the  dignity  of  our  condition,  they  were  ignorant  of  its  corruption 
Dr  if  they  knew  its  infirmity,  they  were  ignorant  of  its  excellency ;  and 
"ollowing  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  routes,  which  made  them  see  nature 
jither  as  nncorrupted,  or  as  irreparable,  they  lost  themselves  either  in  prid« 
yi  in  despair"  (erased). 


CHAPTER   XIII.  273 

as  irreparable,  they  Lave  not  been  able  to  shun  either  pride  or 
gloth,  which  are  the  two  sources  of  all  vices ;  since  they  can- 
not, except,  either  in  abandoning  themselves  through  coward- 
ice, or  in  escaping  from  them  through  pride.  For,  if  they 
knew  the  excellence  of  man,  they  were  ignorant  of  his  corrup 
tion ;  so  that  they  indeed  avoided  sloth,  but  they  lost  them 
selves  in  pride.  And  if  they  recognized  the  infirmity  of  na- 
ture, they  were  ignorant  of  its  dignity :  so  that  they  were, 
indeed,  able  to  shun  vanity,  but  it  was  by  precipitating  them- 
selves into  despair. 

Whence  comes  the  different  sects  of  Stoics  and  Epicureans, 
of  dogmatists  and  academics,  etc.  The  Christian  religion 
alone  has  been  able  to  cure  these  two  vices,  not  in  expelling 
the  one  by  the  other,  by  the  wisdom  of  the  earth,  but  in  ex- 
pelling them  both  by  the  simplicity  of  the  Gospel.  For  it 
teaches  the  just,  that  it  exalts  even  to  the  participation  of 
Divinity  itself,  that  in  this  sublime  state  they  still  bear  the 
source  of  all  corruption,  which  renders  them,  during  their 
whole  life,  subject  to  error,  to  misery,  to  death,  to  sin  ;  and  it 
proclaims  to  the  most  impious  that  they  are  capable  of  the 
grace  of  their  Redeemer.  Thus,  making  those  tremble  whom 
it  justifies,  and  consoling  those  whom  it  condemns,  it  so  justly 
tempers  fear  with  hope,  by  this  double  capacity  of  grace  and 
sin,  which  is  common  to  all,  that  it  humbles  infinitely  more 
than  reason  alone  can,  but  without  driving  to  despair;  and 
that  it  exalts  infinitely  more  than  the  pride  of  nature,  but 
without  puffing  up :  thereby  showing  that  being  alone  exempt 
from  error  and  vice,  it  belongs  only  to  it  both  to  instruct  and 
to  correct  mankind. 

Who,  then,  can  refuse  either  to  believe  or  to  adore  these 
celestial  lights-  ?  For  is  it  not  clearer  than  the  day  that  w 
fed  in  ourselves  the  unalterable  characters  of  excellence. 
And  is  it  not  equally  veritable  that  we  experience  every  hour 
the  effects  of  our  deplorable  condition  ?  What,  then,  do  this 
chaos  and  this  monstrous  confusion  proclaim  to  us,  except 
Jae  truth  of  these  two  states,  with  a  voice  so  powerful  that  it 
is  impossible  to  resist  ? 

12° 


274  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 


IV. 

We  have  no  conception  either  of  the  glorious  state  of  Adam, 
of  the  nature  of  his  sin,  or  the  transmission  of  it  to  ourselves. 

These  are  things  which  took  place  in  a  state  of  nature  alto- 
gether different  from  ours,  and  which  exceed  our  present  ca- 
pacity. A  knowledge  of  all  this  is  of  no  utility  for  our 
deliverance ;  and  all  that  is  of  importance  for  us  to  know  is, 
that  we  are  miserable,  corrupted,  separated  from  God,  but 
redeemed  by  JESUS  CHKIST  ;  and  of  this  we  have  admirable 
proofs  in  this  world.  Thus  the  two  proofs  of  corruption  and 
of  redemption  are  drawn  from  the  impious,  who  live  in  indif- 
ference to  religion,  and  from  the  Jews,  who  are  its  irrecon- 
cilable enemies. 

V. 

Christianity  is  strange !  It  orders  man  to  recognize  that  he 
is  vile,  and  even  abominable ;  and  it  orders  him  to  wish  to  be 
like  unto  God.  Without  such  a  counterpoise,  this  elevation 
would  render  him  horribly  vain,  or  this  abasement  would  ren- 
der him  horribly  abject. 

^[  Misery  leads  to  despair,  pride  leads  to  presumption. 
The  incarnation  discovers  to  man  the  greatness  of  his  misery, 
by  the  greatness  of  the  remedy  that  has  been  necessary. 

VI. 

. . .  Not  an  abasement  that  renders  us  incapable  of  good, 
nor  a  holiness  exempt  from  evil. 

^[  No  doctrine  is  better  adapted  to  man  than  that  which 
tnforms  him  of  his  double  capacity  of  receiving  and  losing 
^Tace,  because  of  the  doub's  danger  to  which  he  is  always  ex- 
posed, of  despair  or  pride. 

VII. 

Philosophers  prescribe  no  sentiments  adapted  to  the  two 
rtatcs.  They  inspire  emotions  of  unalloyed  greatness,  and  this 
's  not  the  state  of  man.  They  inspire  emotions  of  unalloyed 


CH AFTER  xra.  275 

baseness,  and  this  is  not  the  state  of  man.  We  must  havo 
emotions  of  baseness,  not  of  nature,  but  of  penitence  ;  not  to 
dwell  therein,  but  to  advance  to  greatness.  We  must  have 
emotions  of  greatness,  not  of  merit,  but  of  grace,  and  aftor 
having  passed  through  baseness. 

VIII. 

None  is  so  happy,  rational,  virtuous,  amiable,  as  a  tino 
Christian. 

^|  With  how  little  pride  does  a  Christian  believe  himself 
united  to  God !  with  how  little  abjection  does  he  compar  • 
himself  to  the  worms  of  the  earth  !     A  fine  manner  of  receiv 
ing  life  and  death,  good  and  evil ! 

IX. 

Incomprehensible. — Not  every  thing  that  is  incomprehensi  • 
ble  lacks  being.  Infinite  number.  An  infinite  space  equal  to 
the  finite. 

Incredible  that  God  should  unite  himself  to  us. — This  con 
sideration  is  drawn  only  from  the  view  of  our  baseness.  But 
if  you  are  sincere  in  this  consideration,  follow  it  out  as  far  as 
I  do,  and  acknowledge  that  we  are  in  fact  so  base,  that  we  are 
by  ourselves  incapable  of  knowing  whether  his  mercy  can  ren- 
der us  capable  of  him.  For  I  would  indeed  know  whence  this 
animal,  which  is  avowedly  so  weak,  has  the  right  of  measuring 
God's  mercy,  and'  of  limiting  it  according  to  the  suggestions 
v>f  his  fancy.  Man  knows  so  little  what  God  is,  that  he  knows 
uot  what  he  is  himself :  and,  ail  troubled  at  the  view  of  his 
cwn  state,  he  dares  to  say  that  God  cannot  render  him  capa- 
ble of  communion  with  him  !  But  i.  would  ask  him  whether 
God  demands  any  thing  else  of  him,  than  that  he  love  him 
while  knowing  him  ;  and  why  he  believes  that  God  cannot 
make  himself  the  object  of  knowledge  and  love  to  him,  since  he 
is  naturally  capable  of  love  and  knowledge  ?  It  is  unquestionable 
that  he  knows  at  least  that  he  is,  and  that  he  loves  something. 
Therefore,  if  he  oces  something  in  the  darkness  wherein  he  is, 


276  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

and  if  he  finds  some  object  of  love  among  the  things  of  earth, 
why,  if  God  gives  him  some  rays  of  his  essence,  shall  he  not 
be  capable  of  knowing  him  and  loving  him  in  the  manner  that 
it  shall  please  him  to  communicate  himself  to  us  ?  There  is, 
*;hen,  without  doubt,  an  insufferable  presumption  in  these  sorts 
of  reasonings,  although  they  seem  founded  on  an  apparent 
humility,  which  is  neither  sincere  nor  rational,  if  it  does  not 
make  us  confess  that,  not  knowing  of  ourselves  who  we  are, 
we  can  learn  it  only  from  God. 


CHAFIEK   XIV.  277 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 

[OF  REASON   AMD   FAITH.] 


THE  last  attainment  of  reason  is  to  know  that  there  is  an 
.iifinity  of  things  that  surpass  it.  It  is  but  feeble  if  it  has  not 
gone  so  far  as  to  know  this.  If  natural  things  surpass  it,  what 
shall  we  say  of  those  that  are  supernatural  1 

^[  Submission} — It  is  necessary  to  know  where  to  doubt, 
where  to  be  assured,  and  where  to  submit.9  Who  does  not 
thus,  understands  not  the  force  of  reason.  There  are  those 
who  offend  against  these  three  principles,  either  affirming  every 
thing  as  demonstrative,  for  want  of  a  knowledge  of  demon- 
stration ;  or  doubting  every  thing,  for  want  of  knowing  where 


1  Pascal  sometimes  doubts,  or  seems  to  doubt ;  he  conceives  and  ex 
presses  his  doubt  in  a  terrible  manner ;  but  he  has  also,  or  he  believes  ht 
has,  the  remedy.  His  faith,  I  think,  was  anterior  to  his  doubt;  when  this 
doubt  supervened,  it  found  a  place  only  in  the  interval  of  what  has  been 
called  his  two  conversions,  and  it  was  quickly  recovered.  If  it  be  said 
that  it  returned  to  the  charge,  and  always  lodged  itself,  more  or  less,  in 
the  bosom  of  his  faith,  this  was  only  a  manner,  after  all,  of  being  badly 
lodged  and  badly  off;  and  Pascal  would  not  leave  it  day  or  night,  in  peace 
»r  in  rest.  M.  Vin'et  admirably  says  of  a  young  man  of  this  period  : 
". . .  Skepticism  by  a  thousand  means  sought  to  penetrate  into  his  mind ; 
but  his  faith  fortified  itself,  imperturbably  increased  in  the  midst  of  the 
storms  of  his  thought.  It  may  be  said  that  doubt  and  living  faith,  the  one 
transient,  the  other  immutable,  were  bom  for  him  the  same  day  ;  as  if  God, 
in  allowing  the  enemy  to  make  breaches  m  the  outworks,  had  wished  to 
fortify  the  heart  of  the  place  with  an  unpregnable  rampart."  This  flno 
sentence,  which  so  well  expresses  one  of  the  mysteries  of  the  inward 
Christian  life,  may  be  applied  with  njich  verisimilitude  to  the  true  Pascal 
— Sainte-Beuve. 

8  VAR.  OF  MS. :  "  It  is  necessary  to  have  these  three  qualities :  Pyr- 
rhonist,  Geometrician,  submissive  Christian ;  and  they  accord  with  eaclj 
other,  and  temper  each  other,  in  doubting  where  it  is  necessary,  in  assur- 
ng  where  it  is  necessary,  ui  submitting  where  it  is  necessary"  (erased). 


27  S  PASCAL.  —  THOUGHTS. 

it  is  necessary  to  submit ;  or  submitting  to  every  thing,  for 
want  of  knowing  where  it  is  necessary  to  judge. 

IL 

If  we  submit  every  thing  to  reason,  our  religion  will  have 
nothing  in  it  mysterious  or  supernatural.  If  we  violate  the 
principles  of  reason,  our  religion  will  be  absurd  and  ridiculous, 

•[[  Saint  Augustine.  The  reason  would  never  submit,  if  it 
did  not  judge  that  there  are  occasions  when  it  ought  to  submit 
It  is  right,  then,  that  it  submit,  when  it  judges  that  it  ought 
to  submit 

m. 

Piety  is  different  from  superstition.  To  carry  piety  to  the 

extent  of  superstition  is  to  destroy  it.  The  heretics  reproach 

us  with  this  superstitious  submission.  It  is  doing  what  they 
reproach  us  with. . . .' 

IV. 

There  are  two  ways  of  inculcating  the  truths  of  our  religion  : 
cne  by  the  force  of  reason,  the  other  by  the  authority  of  him 
who  speaks.  We  do  not  use  the  last,  but  the  first.  We  do 
not  say  :  We  must  believe  this ;  for  the  Scripture,  which  says 
it,  is  divine  ;  but  we  say,  it  must  be  believed  for  this  or  that 
reason,  which  are  feeble  arguments,  reason  being  pliable  to 
every  thing. 

^  . . .  But  those  even  who  seem  the  most  opposed  to  the 
glory  of  religion  will  not  be  useless  to  it  for  others.  We  will 
adduce  as  the  first  argument  that  there  is  something  super- 
natural ;  for  a  blindness  of  this  sort  is  not  a  natural  thing ; 
%rd  if  their  folly  renders  them  so  opposed  to  their  own  good, 
h  will  serve  to  assure  others  by  the  horror  of  an  example  so 
deplorable  and  of  a  folly  so  worthy  of  compassion. 

^j"  This  will  be  one  of  the  confusions  of  the  damned — to 

1  Port-Boyal  thus  completes  the  sentence :  "to  exact  this  subinissioi 
In  things  that  are  not  matter  of  submission." 


CHAPTER   XIV.  279 

see  that  they  are  condemned  by  their  own  reason,  by  which 
they  pretended  to  condemn  the  Christian  religion. 

^[  There  is  nothing  so  in  conformity  with  reason  as  this 
disavowal  of  reason. 

*([  Two  excesses :  to  exclude  reason,  to  admit  only  reason. 

*f  It  is  not  a  rare  thing  that  the  world  must  be  chided  for 
too  much  docility.  It  is  a  natural  vice,  like  incredulity,  and 
as  pernicious. 

V. 

Faith,  indeed,  affirms  what  the  senses  do  not  affirm,  but  not 
the  contrary  of  what  they  perceive.  It  is  above,  and  .iot  con- 
trary to. 

VI. 

If  I  had  seen  a  miracle,  they  say,  I  should  have  been  con- 
verted. How  are  they  sure  that  they  would  do  what  they  are 
ignorant  of?  They  imagine  that  this  conversion  consists  in  an 
adoration  of  God  like  an  intercourse  and  conversation  such  as 
they  fancy.  The  conversion  consists  in  annihilating  ourselves 
before  that  universal  Being  who  has  been  so  often  offendec^ 
and  who  can  at  any  hour  justly  cast  you  away ;  in  acknowl- 
edging that  we  are  powerless  without  him,  and  that  we  have 
merited  nothing  from  him  but  his  displeasure.  It  consists  in 
knowing  that  there  is  an  invincible  opposition  between  God 
and  us ;  and  that,  without  a  mediator,  there  is  no  possibility  of 
intercourse. 

VII. 

Be  not  astonished  to  see  simple  persons  believe  without 
reasoning.  God  gives  them  love  of  himself  and  hatred  of 
themselves.  They  incline  their  heart  to  belief.  One  will 
never  believe  with  a  useful  belief  and  with  faith,  if  God  does 
not  incline  the  heart ;  and  one  will  believe  as  soon  as  he  shall 
incline  it.  This  is  what  David  knew  well,  when  he  said  :  In- 
tlina  cor  meum,  Deus,  in  lestimonia  tua} 

1  Incline  my  heart,  0  Lrrd,  unf-o  thy  testimonies. 


280  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

VIII. 

Those  who  believe  without  having  read  the  Testaments,  be- 
lieve because  they  have  a  quite  holy  internal  disposition,  and 
because  what  they  hear  said  of  our  religion  is  in  conformity 
•with  it.  They  feel  that  God  has  made  them.  They  wish  to 
love  only  God ;  they  wish  to  hate  only  themselves.  They  feel 
that  they  have  not  the  strength  by  themselves ;  that  they  are 
incapable  of  going  to  God  ;  and  that,  if  God  does  not  come  to 
them,  they  can  have  no  communication  with  him.  And  they 
hear  it  said  in  our  religion  that  we  must  love  only  God,  and 
hate  only  ourselves :  but  that,  being  wholly  corrupt  and  inca 
pable  of  God,  God  has  made  himself  man  in  order  to  unite 
himself  to  us.  Nothing  more  is  requisite  in  order  to  persuade 
men  who  have  this  disposition  in  their  hearts,  and  who  have 
this  knowledge  of  their  duty  and  of  their  incapacity. 

IX. 

Those  whom  we  see  Christians  without  the  knowledge  ot 
prophecies  and  proofs,  do  not  fail  to  be  as  good  judges  of  reli- 
gion as  those  who  have  this  knowledge.  They  judge  of  it  by 
the  heart,  as  the  others  judge  of  it  by  the  mind.  It  is  God 
himself  who  inclines  them  to  believe ;  and  thus  they  are  very 
efficaciously  persuaded.1 

I  admit  indeed  that  one  of  these  Christians  who  believes 
without  proofs,  will  not  have  perhaps  wherewith  to  convince  an 
infidel  who  will  say  as  much  of  himself.  But  those  who  know 
the  proofs  of  religion  will  prove  without  difficulty  that  this  in- 
fidel is  really  inspired  of  God,  although  he  might  not  be  able 
to  prove  it  himself.  For  God  having  said  in  his  prophets  (who 


1  VAK.  OF  MS. :  "  It  will  be  responded  that  the  infidels  would  say  the 
•ame  thing ;  but  I  respond  to  this  tnat  we  have  proofs  that  God  veritably 
Inclines  those  whom  he  loves  to  believe  the  Christian  religion,  and  that 
Infidels  have  no  proof  of  what  they  say ;  and  thus  our  propositions  being 
•imllar  in  terms,  they  differ  in  this — that  one  is  without  any  proof,  and  the 
other  is  solidly  proved"  (erased). 


CHAPTER  XIV.  }J81 

are  unquestionably  prophets),  that  in  the  reign  of  Jesus  Christ 
he  would  pour  out  his  spirit  among  all  nations,  and  that  the 
Rons,  the  daughters,  and  the  children  of  the  Church  should 
prophesy,  it  is  indubitable  that  the  spirit  of  God  is  upon  them, 
and  that  it  is  not  upon  other*. 


282  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 


CHAPTEK 

[THAT  MAN,  CONVINCED  OF  HIS  MISERY  AND  TORMENTED  BY  DOUBT,  FINDS 
NOTHING  EFFECTIVE  OUT  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION  5  AND  THAT  THK 
HISTORY  OF  THE  JEWS  IS  ONE  OF  THE  INDUBITABLE  FOUNDATIONS  OF  THIS 
RELIGION.] 


WE  are  ridiculous  in  seeking  repose  in  the  society  of  our 
fellows.  Miserable  like  us,  impotent  like  us,  they  cannot  aid 
us ;  we  must  die  alone ;  we  must  act,  then,  as  if  we  were  alone ; 
and  then,  would  we  build  magnificent  houses,  etc.  ?  We  should 
seek  truth  without  hesitation ;  and  if  we  refuse  it,  we  testify 
that  we  regard  the  esteem  of  men,  more  than  the  search  after 
truth. 

^[  .  .  .  This  is  what  I  see  and  what  troubles  me.  I  look 
all  around  me,  and  see  everywhere  nothing  but  obscurity. 
Nature  offers  me  nothing  that  is  not  a  matter  of  doubt  and 
disquietude.  If  I  saw  nothing  in  nature  that  indicated  a  Di- 
vinity, I  should  be  determined  to  believe  nothing  of  her.  If  I 
saw  everywhere  the  signs  of  a  Creator,  I  should  peaceably  re- 
pose in  the  Faith.  But,  seeing  too  much  to  deny,  and  too  little 
to  assure  me,  I  am  in  a  pitiable  condition,  and  wherein  I  have 
a  hundred  times  wished  that,  if  God  sustains  her,  she  should 
show  it  without  equivocation ;  and  that,  if  the  signs  that  she 
gives  of  it  are  deceptive,  she  would  suppress  them  entirely ; 
that  she  would  say  every  thing  or  nothing,  in  order  that  I 
might  see  which  course  I  ought  to  pursue.  Whilst  in  the 
state  in  which  I  am,  ignorant  of  what  I  am  and  of  what  I 
ought  to  do,  I  know  neither  my  condition  nor  my  duty 
My  whole  heart  inclines  to  know  where  is  the  true  good,  in 
order  to  follow  it.  Nothing  would  be  to  me  too  dear  for 
tternity.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER   XV.  283 

^J"  I  see  the  Christian  religion  founded  on  a  former  religion,1 
»nd  the  following  is  what  I  find  effective  in  it.  I  do  not  speak 
here  of  the  miracles  of  Moses,  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  of  the  apos- 
tles, because  they  do  not  at  first  appear  to  be  convincing,  and 
because  I  wish  to  put  in  evidence  here  only  those  fundamental 
proofs  of  the  Christian  religion  that  are  indubitable,  and  which 
cannot  be  doubted  by  any  person  whatever.  .  .  . 

I  see,  then,  many  religions  in  several  quarters  of  the  world, 
and  in  all  times.  But  they  have  neither  the  morals  that  can 
please  me,  nor  the  proofs  that  can  arrest  me.  And  thus  1 
would  have  equally  refused  the  religion  of  Mahomet,  and 
that  of  China,  and  that  of  the  ancient  Romans,  and  that  of  the 
Egyptians,  for  this  single  reason — that  one  having  no  more 
marks  of  truth  than  another,  and  nothing  that  would  necessa- 
rily lead  to  determination,  reason  cannot  incline  towards  one 
rather  than  towards  another. 

But,  in  thus  considering  this  inconstant  and  strange  variety 
of  manners  a»d  beliefs,  in  different  periods,  I  find  in  a  corner 
of  the  world  a  peculiar  people,2  separated  from  all  otier 
nations  of  the  earth,  the  most  ancient  of  all,  and  whose  histo- 
ries precede,  by  several  ages,  the  most  ancient  that  we  possess. 
I  find,  then,  this  great  and  numerous  people,  descended  from 
one  man,  who  adore  one  God,  and  who  are  governed  by  one 
law  which  they  profess  to  have  received  from  his  hand.  They 
maintain  that  they  are  the  only  people  in  the  world  to  whom 
God  has  revealed  his  mysteries ;  that  all  men  are  corrupt,  and 
under  the  Divine  displeasure  ;  that  they  are  all  abandoned  to 
their  senses,  and  to  their  own  understanding ;  and  that  hence 
come  the  strange  irregularities  and  continual  changes  that  take 
place  among  them,  both  in  religions  and  customs ;  whilst  they 
remain  immovable  in  their  conduct-:  but  that  God  will  not 
leave  eternally  the  other  peoples  in  this  state  of  darkness ;  that 
a  Liberator  will  come  for  all ;  that  they  are  in  the  world  to 
announce  him  ;  that  they  are  expressly  prepared  to  be  the  fore- 
runners and  heralds  of  this  great  advent,  and  to  summon  all 

1  The  Jewish  religion.  *  The  Jews. 


284:  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

nations  to  unite  themselves  with  them  in  the  expectation  of 
this  Liberator. 

The  meeting  with  this  people  astonishes  me,  and  seems  to 
me  worthy  of  attention.  I  consider  this  law  that  they  boast 
of  having  received  from  God,  and  I  find  it  admirable.  It  is  the 
first  law  of  all,  and  of  such  a  kind,  that  before  even  the  word 
law  was  used  among  the  Greeks,  they  had  received  and  ob- 
served it,  without  interruption,  for  more  than  a  thousand  years. 
Thus  I  find  it  strange  that  the  first  law  of  the  world  should  be 
also  the  most  perfect,  so  that  the  greatest  legislators  have 
borrowed  theirs  from  it,  as  it  woutd  appear  by  the  law  of  the 
Twelve  Tables  of  Athens,  which  was  afterwards  taken  by  the 
Romans,  and  as  it  would  be  easy  to  show,  if  Josephus  and 
others  had  not  treated  this  matter  sufficiently. 

•|[  Advantages  of  the  Jewish  People. — In  this  inquiry  the 
Jewish  People  attracts  at  first  my  attention  by  a  number  of 
remarkable  and  singular  things  that  appear  among  them. 

I  see  at  first  that  this  is  a  people  wholly  composed  of  breth- 
len :  and,  whilst  all  others  are  formed  by  the  assemblage  of 
an  infinite  number  of  families,  this,  although  so  strangely  popu- 
lous, is  sprung  entirely  from  one  man ;  and,  thus  all  being  one 
flesh,  and  members  one  of  another,  they  compose  a  powerful 
state  of  one  single  family.  This  is  unexampled. 

This  family,  or  this  people,  is  the  most  ancient  within  the 
knowledge  of  men ;  a  circumstance  which,  it  appears  to  me, 
entitles  them  to  peculiar  veneration,  and  particularly  in  the 
inquiry  that  we  are  now  making ;  since,  if  God  has  from  all 
time  communicated  himself  to  men,  it  is  to  them  we  must  have 
recourse,  in  order  to  know  the  tradition  of  it. 

This  people  is  not  only  important  by  its  antiquity ;  but  it  is 
still  more  singular  on  account  of  its  duration,  which  has  always 
subsisted  since  its  origin  until  the  present  time  :  for,  whilst 
the  peoples  of  Greece,  and  of  Italy,  of  Lacedaemon,  of  Athens, 
•f  Rome,  and  others  which  came  such  a  long  time  afterwards, 
have  long  since  passed  away,  the  Jews  always  remain;  and 
in  spite  of  the  enterprises  of  so  many  powerful  kings,  who 
have  a  hundred  times  endeavored  to  destroy  them,  as  the  hi» 


CHAPTER   XV.  285 

torians  testify,  and  as  it  is  easy  for  us  to  judge  by  the  natural 
order  of  things,  during  such  a  great  number  of  years  they 
have,  nevertheless,  always  been  preserved,  and  extending  from 
the  earliest  times  to  the  latest,  their  history  comprises  in  its 
duration  that  of  all  our  histories. 

The  law  by  which  this  people  is  governed  is  at  the  same 
time  the  most  ancient  law  of  the  world,  the  most  perfect,  and 
the  only  one  that  has  always  been  preserved  without  interrup- 
tion in  a  State.  This  is  what  Josephus  admirably  maintains 
against  Apion,  and  Philo,  the  Jew,  in  several  places,  where 
they  show  that  it  is  so  ancient,  that  even  the  name  of  law  was 
not  known  to  the  most  ancient  nations  for  more  than  a  thou- 
sand years  after,  so  that  Homer,  who  has  treated  of  the  history 
of  so  many  States,  has  never  used  it.  And  it  is  easy  to  judge 
of  its  perfection  by  a  simple  perusal,  in  which  we  see  that  they 
have  provided  for  all  things  with  so  much  wisdom,  so  much 
equity,  so  much  judgment,  that  the  most  ancient  Greek  and 
Roman  legislators,  having  had  some  light  from  it,  have  bor- 
rowed from  it  their  principal  laws;  which  appears  by  what 
they  call  the  Twelve  Tables,  and  by  the  other  proofs  that  Jose- 
phus gives  of  it.  But  this  law  is,  at  the  same  time,  the  most 
severe  and  the  most  rigorous  of  all  in  every  thing  regarding 
the  worship  of  their  religion,  obligating  this  people,  in  order  to 
retain  them  in  their  duty,  to  a  thousand  peculiar  and  painful 
observances,  on  pain  of  death.  So  that  it  is  a  very  astonish- 
ing thing  that  this  law  should  always  be  preserved,  during  so 
many  ages,  by  a  people  so  rebellious  and  impatient ;  whilst  all 
other  States  have,  from  time  to  time,  changed  their  laws, 
although  they  were  much  more  easy  of  observance.  The  book 
which  contains  this  law,  the  first  of  all,  is  itself  the  most  an- 
cient book  in-the  world,  those  of  Homer,  of  Hesiod,  and  others, 
not  having  made  their  appearance  until  six  or  seven  hundred 
years  afterwards. 

II. 

Sincerity  of  the  Jews. —  . . .  They  preserve  with  affection  and 
fidelity  the  book  wherein  Moses  declares  that  they  have  been 


286  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

ungrateful  towards  God  during  their  whole  life,  and  that  o« 
knows  they  would  be  still  more  so  after  his  death ;  but  that  he 
calls  heaven  and  earth  to  witness  against  them,  and  that  he 
has  taught  them  sufficiently :  he  declares  that  at  length  God, 
being  irritated  against  them,  will  disperse  them  among  all 
the  nations  of  the  earth  :  that,  as  they  have  irritated  him  in 
adoring  gods  that  were  not  their  God,  so  he  will  provoke  them 
in  calling  a  people  that  is  not  his  people  ;  and  desires  that  all 
his  words  be  everlastingly  preserved,  and  that  his  book  be  de- 
posited in  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant,  to  serve  as  a  witness 
against  them  forever.  Isaiah  says  the  same  thing,  xxx,  8. 
Yet  this  book,  which  dishonors  them  in  se  many  ways,  they 
preserve  at  the  expense  of  their  lives.  This  is  an  instance  of 
sincerity  without  example  in  the  world,  and  which  has  no  root 
in  nature. 

There  is  much  difference  between  a  book  which  is  made  by 
an  individual,  and  which  he  gives  to  a  people,  and  a  book 
which  is  made  by  a  people  itself.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that 
the  book  is  as  old  as  the  people. 

All  history  that  is  not  contemporary  is  suspicious ;  as  the 
books  of  the  Sibyls  and  of  Trismegistus,  and  so  many  others 
that  have  obtained  credence  in  the  world,  are  false,  and  will  be 
found  to  be  false  to  the  end  of  time.  It  is  not  thus  with  con- 
temporary authors. 

III. 

What  a  difference  there  is  between  one  book  and  another  ! 
I  am  not  surprised  that  the  Greeks  had  their  Iliad,  and  the 
Egyptians  and  Chinese  their  histories.  It  is  necessary  only  to 
see  how  this  originated. 

These  fabulous  historians  were  not  contemporary  with  the 
events  of  which  they  wrote.  Homer  composed  a  romance, 
which  he  gave  as  such  ;  for  nobody  doubted  that  Troy  and 
Agamemnon  had  no  more  existed  than  the  Golden  Apple, 
lie  did  not  contemplate  making  a  history  of  them,  but  merely 
a  book  of  amusement.  It  was  the  only  book  of  his  time  :  the 
Beauty  of  the  work  made  the  thing  endure :  everybody  learnea 


CHAP1ER   XV.  287 

it  and  spoke  of  it :  it  was  necessary  to  know  it ;  and  every  one 
knew  it  by  heart.  Four  hundred  years  after  the  witnesses  of 
the  events  were  no  longer  living,  no  one  knew,  by  his  own 
knowledge,  whether  it  was  a  fable  or  a  history :  they  had 
merely  learned  it  from  their  ancestors,  this  might  pass  for  tha 
truth. 

IV. 

That  the  law  of  Moses  was  figurative. — The  creation  and  the 
deluge  being  past,  and  God  having  determined  not  again  to 
destroy  the  world,  nor  to  recreate  it,  nor  to  give  such  great 
manifestations  of  himself,  began  to  establish  a  people  on  the 
earth,  formed  expressly,  who  was  to  endure  until  the  coming 
of  the  people  whom  the  Messiah  would  form  by  his  spirit. 

V. 

God,  wishing  to  show  that  he  could  form  a  holy  people, 
possessing  an  invisible  sanctity,  and  fill  them  with  an  eternal 
glory,  has  wrought  visible  wonders.  As  nature  is  an  image  of 
grace,  he  has  done  in  the  things  of  nature  what  he  was  to  do 
in  those  of  grace,  in  order  that  we  might  judge  that  he  was 
able  to  do  the  invisible,  since  he  easily  achieved  the  visible. 
He  saved,  then,  this  people  from  the  deluge  ;  he  caused  them 
to  be  born  of  Abraham,  he  redeemed  them  from  their  enemies, 
and  brought  them  into  a  place  of  rest. 

The  object  of. God  was  not  to  save  from  the  deluge,  and  to 
cause  a  whole  people  to  spring  from  Abraham,  merely  to  intro- 
duce them  into  a  fruitful  land.1  And  even  grace  is  but  the 
figure  of  glory,  for  it  is  not  the  final  object.  It  has  been  typi- 
fied by  the  l^w,  and  itself  typifies  gtory ;  but  it  is  its  type  and 
principle,  or  cause. 

The  ordinary  life  of  men  is  like  that  of  the  saints.  They  all 
leek  their  own  satisfaction,  and  differ  only  in  the  object  in 
which  they  place  it.  They  call  those  their  enemies  who  ob- 


'  The  promised  land. 


288  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

struct  them,  etc.  God  then  has  shown  the  power  he  haa  ol 
giving  invisible  benefits,  by  that  which  he  haa  shown  that  he 
had  over  visible  things. 

VI. 

Figures. — God  wishing  to  deprive  his  own  of  perishable 
goods,  in  order  to  show  that  it  was  not  through  impotency, 
created  the  Jewish  people. 

^[  The  Jews  had  grown  old  in  these  earthly  thoughts,  that 
God  loved  their  father  Abraham,  and  all  his  flesh,  that  de- 
scended from  it ;  that,  for  this  reason,  he  had  multiplied  and 
distinguished  them  above  all  other  nations,  not  suffering  them 
to  intermingle  with  them ;  that,  when  they  languished  in 
Egypt,  he  led  them  out  of  it  with  signal  manifestations  in  their 
favor ;  that  he  fed  them  with  manna  in  the  wilderness ;  that 
he  brought  them  into  a  very  fruitful  land  ;  that  he  gave  them 
kings  and  a  well-built  temple  for  the  offering  of  victims,  that 
by  the  effusion  of  their  blood  they  might  be  purified,  and  that 
he  designed,  at  last,  to  send  them  the  Messiah,  in  order  to  ren- 
der them  masters  of  the  whole  world.  And  he  predicted  the 
time  of  his  coming. 

The  world  having  grown  old  in  these  carnal  errors,  Jesus 
Christ  came  in  the  time  predicted,  but  not  indeed  with  that 
splendor  which  was  expected ;  and  therefore,  they  did  not  be- 
lieve that  it  was  he.  After  his  death,  St.  Paul  came  to  teach 
men  that  all  these  things  had  been  prefigured ;  that  the  king- 
dom of  God  was  not  carnal  but  spiritual ;  that  the  enemies  of 
man  were  not  the  Babylonians,  but  his  own  passions;  that 
God  took  no  pleasure  in  temples  built  with  hands,  but  in  a 
pure  and  humble  heart ;  that  the  circumcision  of  the  body  was 
useless,  but  that  of  the  heart  necessary ;  that  Moses  had  not 
given  them  bread  from  heaven,  etc. 

But  God,  not  having  wished  to  discover  these  things  to  this 
people,  which  was  unworthy  of  them,  and,  having  wished, 
nevertheless,  to  predict  them  in  order  that  they  might  be 
believed,  had  foretold  the  time  clearly,  and  he  had  sometimes 
•ven  expressed  them  clearly,  but  with  many  figures,  in  ordei 


CHAPTER   XV.  289 

that  those  who  loved  figurative  things1  might  rest  in  them, 
and  that  those  who  loved  prefigured9  things  might  see  them. 


The  carnal  Jews  understood  neither  the  greatness  nor  the 
lowliness  of  the  Messiah,  foretold  in  their  prophecies.  They 
misapprehended  him  in  his  greatness,  as  when  it  is  said  that 
the  Messiah  will  be  David's  Lord,  although  his  son  ;  that  he 
was  before  Abraham,  and  had  seen  him.  They  did  not  believe 
that  he  was  so  great,  that  he  was  eternal  :  and  they  equally 
misunderstood  him  in  his  humiliation  and  his  death.  The 
Messiah,  they  said,  lives  forever,  and  this  man  says  that  he 
will  die.  They  did  not,  therefore,  believe  him  to  be  either 
mortal  or  eternal  :  they  sought  in  him  only  a  carnal  greatness. 

VIII. 

The  Jews  so  loved  figurative  things,  and  were  in  such  ex- 
pectation of  them,  that  they  knew  not  the  reality  when  it  came 
at  the  time  and  in  the  manner  predicted. 

IX. 

Those  who  have  difficulty  in  believing,  seek  an  argument  in 
the  fact  that  the  Jews  did  not  believe.  If  the  truth  was  so 
clear,  they  say,  why  did  they  not  believe  ?  And  half  wished 
that  they  might  believe,  in  order  not  to  be  stopped  by  the 
example  of  their  refusal.  But  it  is  their  very  refusal  that  is 
the  foundation  of  our  belief.  We  should  be  much  less  dis- 
posed to  believe,  if  they  were  of  our  faith.  We  should  then 
have  a  more  ample  pretext.  This  is  marvellous,  —  to  have 


1  "Figurative  things."  Port-Royal  wrote  on  the  margin:  "That  is, 
carnal  things  which  served  for  figures." 

8  "Prefigured  things."  Port-Royal  wrote  on  the  margin:  "That  is, 
ipiritnal  truths  prefigured  by  carnal  thing*."  Here  Pascal  interlined  the 
words:  "I  do  not  express  myself  well."  In  fact,  though  we  understand 
his  thought,  it  is  not  here  expressed  with  thai  admirable  perspicuity  which 
U  ths  gift  and  the  necessity  of  his  mind.  —Havet. 

13 


290  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

rendered  the  Jews  great  lovers  of  the  things  predicted,  and 
great  enemies  of  their  fulfilment. 


It  was  necessary  that,  to  give  faith  to  the  Messiah,  there 
should  have  been  preceding  prophecies,  and  that  they  should 
have  been  proclaimed  by  men  altogether  unsuspected,  and  of 
extraordinary  diligence  and  fidelity  and  zeal,  known  to  the 
whole  world. 

To  accomplish  all  this,  God  chose  this  carnal  people,  with 
whom  he  deposited  the  prophecies  which  foretell  the  Messiah, 
as  a  deliverer  and  dispenser  of  those  earthly  goods  which  this 
people  loved  ;  thus  they  had  an  extraordinary  ardor  for  their 
prophets,  and  exhibited  to  the  view  of  the  whole  world  those 
books  which  foretell  their  Messiah,  assuring  all  nations  that  he 
would  come,  and  in  the  manner  predicted  in  their  books, 
which  they  laid  open  to  the  whole  world.  And  thus  this 
people,  deceived  by  the  poor  and  ignominious  advent  of  the 
Messiah,  has  been  his  most  cruel  enemy.  So  that  here  is  a 
people  the  least  suspected  of  favoring  us,  and  the  most  exact 
of  all  for  their  law  and  their  prophets,  who  keep  them  uncor- 
rupted. 

Hence  it  is  that  the  prophecies  have  a  hidden  sense,  the 
spiritual,  of  which  this  people  was  an  enemy,  under  the  carnal, 
of  which  it  was  a  friend.  If  the  spiritual  sense  had  been  mani- 
fest, they  were  not  capable  of  loving  it ;  and,  not  being  able  to 
bear  it,  they  would  not  have  had  the  zeal  for  the  preservation 
of  their  books  and  of  their  ceremonies.  And  if  they  had  loved 
these  spiritual  promises,  and  had  preserved  them  incorruptible 
until  the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  their  testimony  would  not 
have  had  weight,  since  they  would  have  been  his  friends.  This 
is  why  it  was  good  that  the  spiritual  sense  should  be  concealed. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  this  sense  had  been  so  concealed 
that  it  would  not  have  appeared  at  all,  it  could  not  have 
served  as  a  proof  of  the  Messiah.  What,  then,  has  been 
done  ?  It  has  been  concealed  under  the  temporal  sense  in  a 
great  many  passages,  and  has  been  disclosed  very  clearly  in  a 


CHAPTER   XV.  291 

few  :  besides,  the  time  and  the  state  of  the  world  were  so 
clearly  predicted,  that  the  sun  itself  is  not  so  clear.  Ana  this 
spiritual  sense  is  so  clearly  explained  in  some  places,  that  a 
blindness  like  that  which  the  flesh  brings  upon  the  spirit  when 
it  is  subjected  to  it,  was  necessary  in  order  not  to  know  it. 

This,  then,  was  the  way  which  God  has  taken.  This  sen  so 
is  hidden  by  another  in  a  multitude  of  passages,  and  in  some, 
tLough  rarely,  it  is  discovered,  but  in  such  a  manner,  never- 
theless, that  the  places  where  it  is  hidden  are  equivocal,  and 
may  admit  both  senses ;  while  the  places  where  it  is  disclosed 
are  unequivocal,  and  can  admit  only  the  spiritual  sense. 

So  that  this  could  not  lead  into  error,  and  that  none  but  A 
people  as  carnal  as  they  could  have  misunderstood  it. 

For  when  good  things  are  promised  in  abundance,  what  hin- 
dered them  from  understanding  the  veritable  goods,  except 
their  cupidity,  which  restricted  this  sense  to  earthly  goods? 
But  those  who  had  no  goods  but  in  God  referred  them  exclu- 
sively to  God.  For  there  are  two  principles  that  divide  the 
wills  of  men,  cupidity  and  charity.  Not  that  cupidity  may  not 
exist  with  faith  in  God,  or  that  charity  may  not  exist  with  the 
goods  of  this  world.  But  cupidity  makes  use  of  God,  and 
enjoys  the  world ;  and  charity,  the  contrary.1 

Now,  it  is  the  ultimate  end  which  gives  names  to  things. 
Whatever  hinders  us  from  arriving  at  this  end  is  called  an 
enemy.  Thus  creatures,  though  good  in  themselves,  are  ene- 
mies to  the  just  when  they  turn  them  away  from  God,  and 
God  himself  is  the  -enemy  of  those  whose  lusts  he  disturbs. 

Thus  the  word  enemy  depending  on  the  ultimate  end,  the 
just  understand  by  it  their  passions,  and  the  carnal,  the  Baby- 
lonians :  and  thus  these  terms  were  obscure  only  to  the  unjust. 
And  this  is  what  Isaiah  says :  Signa  legem  in  electis  meis* 
and  that  Jesus  Christ  would  be  a  stone  of  stumbling.  But, 
"  Blessed  are  they  who  shall  not  be  offended  at  him !"  Hosea, 

1  "  The  contrary."  Port-Royal  thus  completes  the  phrase :  usss  th< 
world  and  enjoys  God.  That  is,  m»kcs  use  of  the  goods  of  the  world  oul> 
to  do  the  will  of  God,  and  thus  to  ootain  his  grace. — Havet. 

•  Seal  the  law  among  my  disciples. 


29ii  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

in  his  last  chapter,  expresses  this  perfectly :  "  Who  is  wise, 
and  he  shall  understand  these  things  ?  prudent,  and  he  shall 
know  them?  for  the  ways  of  the  Lord  are  right,  and  the  just 
shall  walk  in  them :  but  the  transgressors  shall  fall  therein." 

^[  ...  So  that  those  who  have  rejected  and  crucified  Jesus 
Christ,  who  has  been  to  them  a  scandal,  are  the  very  persona 
who  preserve  the  books  which  testify  of  him,  and  which  pre- 
dict that  he  will  be  rejected  and  a  scandal ;  so  that  they  have 
shown  that  it  was  he  by  refusing  him,  and  that  he  has  been 
equally  proved,  both  by  the  just  Jews  who  have  received  him, 
and  by  the  unjust  who  have  rejected  him,  both  having  been 
predicted. 

XI. 

The  time  of  the  first  advent  is  predicted ;  the  time  of  the 
second  is  not,  because  the  first  was  to  be  concealed ;  the  sec- 
ond is  to  be  glorious,  and  so  manifest  that  even  his  enemies 
would  recognize  him.  But,  as  he  was  to  come  only  in  obscu- 
rity, and  to  be  known  to  those  only  who  searched  the  Scrip- 
tures. .  . . 

^[  What  could  his  enemies,  the  Jews,  do  ?  If  they  receive 
him,  they  prove  him  by  their  reception,  for  the  depositaries  of 
the  promise  of  the  Messiah  receive  him ;  and  if  they  renounce 
him,  they  prove  him  by  their  renunciation. 

XII. 

Fac  secundum  exemplar1  quod  tibi  ostensum  est  in  monte. 
The  religion  of  the  Jews  has,  then,  been  formed  on  the  resem- 
blance of  the  truth  of  the  Messiah,  and  the  truth  of  the  Mes- 
siah has  been  recognized  by  the  religion  of  the  Jews,  which 
was  the  type  of  him. 

Among  the  Jews,  truth  was  only  prefigured.  In  heaven  it 
is  revealed.  In  the  Church  it  is  concealed,  and  recognized  by 
its  relation  to  the  figure.  The  figure  was  made  by  the  truth, 
and  the  truth  was  recognized  by  the  figure. 

1  Exod.  xxv,  40. 


OHAPTEK   XV.  29S 


xm. 

Whoever  judges  of  the  Jewish  religion  by  its  external 
knows  but  little  of  it.  It  is  visible  in  the  holy  books,  and  ic 
the  tradition  of  the  prophets,  who  have  made  it  sufficiently 
understood  that  they  did  not  understand  the  law  literally 
Thus  our  religion  is  divine  in  the  Gospel,  the  apostles,  and  tra- 
dition ;  but  it  is  ridiculous  in  those  who  treat  it  ill. 

The  Messiah,  according  to  the  carnal  Jews,  was  to  be  a 
great  temporal  prince.  Jesus  Christ,  according  to  the  carnal 
Christians,  came  to  dispense  with  the  obligation  of  loving  God, 
and  to  give  us  sacraments,  which  effect  all  without  our  concur- 
rence. Neither  is  the  Christian  religion,  nor  the  Jewish.  The 
true  Jews  and  the  true  Christians  have  always  expected  a  Mes- 
siah who  would  make  them  love  God,  and,  by  this  love,  tri- 
umph over  their  enemies. 

^f  Two  sorts  of  men  in  every  religion. — Among  the  pagans, 
the  worshippers  of  beasts,  and  the  others,  the  worshippers  of 
one  God  in  natural  religion.  Among  the  Jews,  the  carnal,  and 
the  spiritual,  who  were  the  Christians  of  the  old  law.  Among 
the  Christians,  the  sensual,  who  are  the  Jews  of  the  new  law. 
The  carnal  Jews  expected  a  carnal  Messiah,  and  the  sensual 
Christians  thought  that  the  Messiah  dispensed  with  the  obliga- 
tion of  loving  God.  The  true  Jews  and  the  true  Christians 
adore  a  Messiah  who  makes  them  love  God. 

If  The  carnal  Jews  and  the  pagans  have  their  miseries,  and 
the  Christians  also.  There  is  no  Redeemer  for  the  pagans,  for 
they  do  not  even  hope  for  one.  There  is  no  Redeemer  for  the 
Jews,  they  hope  for  one  in  vain.  There  is  a  Redeemer  only 
for  the  Christians. 

xrv. 

The  vefl  that  is  over  the  books  of  the  Scripture  for  the  Jews, 
it  there  also  for  bad  Christians,  and  for  all  those  who  do  not 
bate  themselves.  But  how  well-disposed  we  are  to  under- 
stand them  and  to  know  Jesus  Christ,  when  we  truly  hate 
ourselves ! 


294  PASCAL. — THOUGHTS. 

XV. 

The  carnal  Jews  hold  a  middle  place  between  the  Christian* 
and  the  pagans.  The  pagans  do  not  know  God,  and  love  only 
the  earth.  The  Jews  know  the  true  God,  and  love  only  the 
earth.  The  Christians  know  the  true  God,  and  do  not  love  the 
earth.  The  Jews  and  the  pagans  love  the  same  goods.  The 
Jews  and  the  Christians  know  the  same  God.  The  Jews  were 
of  two  sorts :  some  had  only  pagan  affections,  others  had 
Christian  affections. 

XVI. 

Evidently,  this  people  was  formed  expressly  to  serve  as  wit- 
nesses to  the  Messiah :  Is.  xliii,  9 ;  xliv,  8.  They  have  the 
books,  and  love  them,  but  do  not  understand  them.  And  all 
this  is  foretold  :  that  the  oracles  of  God  are  committed  to  them, 
but  as  a  book  that  is  sealed. 

^[  While  the  prophets  remained  to  maintain  the  law,  the 
people  were  negligent.  But  since  there  have  been  no  more 
prophets,  zeal  has  succeeded.  The  devil  troubled  the  zeal  of 
the  Jews  before  Jesus  Christ,  because  it  might  have  been  salu- 
tary to  them,  but  not  after. 

xvn. 

The  creation  of  the  world  beginning  to  be  a  remote  event, 
God  provided  a  single  contemporary  historian,  and  committed 
his  book  to  the  keeping  of  a  whole  people,  in  order  that  this 
history  might  be  the  most  authentic  in  the  world,  and  that  all 
men  might  learn  a  thing  so  necessary  to  know,  and  that  it 
might  be  known  only  by  this. 

xvm. 

Principle :  Moses  was  an  able  man ;  if,  therefore,  he  was 
governed  by  his  understanding,  he  said  nothing  plainly  which 
was  directly  against  the  understanding.  Thus  all  very  apparent 
weaknesses  are  forces.  As,  for  example,  the  two  genealogies 


CHAPTER   XV.  295 

of  St.  Matthew  and  of  St.  Lute :  what  is  there  more  clear, 
than  that  they  were  not  made  in  concert  ? 

^[  Proof  of  Moses. — Why  has  Moses  made  the  lives  of  men 
BO  long,  and  the  generations  so  few  ?  for  it  is  not  the  length 
of  years,  but  the  multitude  of  generations  that  make  things 
obscure. 

For  truth  is  altered  only  by  change  of  men.  And  yet  he 
places  two  events,  the  most  memorable  that  were  ever  im- 
agined, namely,  the  creation  and  the  deluge,  so  near,  that  they 
are  tangible. 

^j"  Shem,  who  saw  Lamech,  who  saw  Adam,  saw  also  Jacob,1 
who  saw  those  who  saw  Moses.  Therefore,  the  deluge  and  the 
creation  are  true.  This  is  conclusive  among  certain  people 
who  understand  it  well. 

^[  The  length  of  the  patriarchal  life,  instead  of  causing  the 
histories  of  past  events  to  be  lost,  served,  on  the  contrary,  to 
preserve  them.  For  the  reason  that  we  are  not,  sometimes, 
sufficiently  instructed  in  the  history  of  our  ancestors,  is,  that 
we  have  but  seldom  lived  with  them,  and  that  they  have  died 
often  before  we  had  attained  the  age  of  reason.  But,  when 
men  lived  so  long,  children  lived  a  long  time  with  their  fathers, 
and  conversed  a  long  time  with  them.  Now,  what  Trould  they 
have  conversed  about,  if  not  the  history  of  their  forefathei-s, 
since  all  history  was  reduced  to  that,  and  they  had  no  studies, 
no  sciences,  no  arts,  which  occupy  a  great  part  of  the  discourses 
of  life?  We  see  also,  that  in  those  days,  the  people  took 
especial  care  to  preserve  their  genealogies. 

XTX. 

. . .  Hence  I  refuse  all  other  religions :  by  this  I  find  an 
answer  to  all  objections.  It  is  just  that  a  God  so  pure  should 
reveal  himself  only  to  those  whose  hearts  have  been  purified. 
Hence  this  religion  is  to  me  amiable,  and  already  I  find  it  suf- 
ficiently authorized  by  such  a  divine  morality ;  but  I  find  more 

1  "  Saw  also  Jacob."  This  is  an  error  which  Pon-Royal  corrects  in 
Writing :  taw  at  leatt  Abraham,  and  Abraham  tiw  Jacob. — Havet. 


296  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

in  it. ...  I  find  it  true  that  since  the  world  began,  it  has  been 
constantly  announced  to  men  that  they  are  in  a  state  of  uni- 
versal corruption ;  but  that  a  Restorer  shall  come.  That  it  i« 
not  one  man  who  says  it,  but  an  infinite  number  of  men,  and 
an  entire  people,  during  four  thousand  years,  prophesying  and 
made  expressly.  .  .  .  Thus  I  extend  my  arms  to  my  Liberator, 
who,  having  been  foretold  for  four  thousand  years,  came  to 
suffer  and  to  die  for  me  on  the  earth,  at  the  time  and  with  all 
the  circumstances  which  had  been  predicted ;  and,  by  his  grace, 
I  await  death  in  peace,  in  the  hope  of  being  eternally  united 
to  him ;  and  I  live,  nevertheless,  with  joy,  either  in  the  blessings 
which  it  may  please  him  to  give  me,  or  in  the  ills  which  he 
may  send  me  for  ray  good,  and  that  he  has  taught  me  to  endure 
by  his  example. 

^[ . . .  The  more  I  examine  them,  the  more  truths  I  find 
in  them  :  in  what  preceded  and  in  what  followed  ;  in  fine,  the 
Jews,  without  idols  or  king,  and  that  synagogue  which  was 
predicted,  and  those  miserable  creatures  who  follow  it,  and 
who,  being  our  enemies,  are  admirable  witnesses  of  the  truth 
of  those  prophecies,  wherein  their  misery  and  even  their 
blindness  is  predicted.  I  find  this  concatenation,  this  religion, 
altogether  divine  in  its  authority,  in  its  duration,  in  its  perpe- 
tuity, in  its  morality,  in  its  government,  in  its  doctrine,  in  its 
effects,  and  the  darkness  of  the  Jews  frightful  and  predicted : 
Eris  palpans  in  meridie.  Dabitur  liber  scienti  litleras,  et  dicet, 
non  possum  legere. 


CHAPTEB   XVI.  297 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

TEAT  THE  JEWISH  RELIGION,  LIKE  THE  CHRISTIAN.  RECOMMENDS  THE  LOT! 
OF  GOD.] 

THE  religion  of  the  Jews  seemed  to  consist  essentially  in  the 
paternity  of  Abraham,  in  circumcision,  in  sacrifices,  in  cere- 
monies, in  the  ark,  in  the  temple  of  Jerusalem,  and  finally,  in 
the  law  and  covenant  of  Moses. 

I  say  that  it  did  not  consist  in  any  of  these  things,  but  simply 
in  the  love  of  God,  and  that  God  rejected  all  the  rest. 

That  God  did  not  accept  the  posterity  of  Abraham. 

That  the  Jews  shall  be  punished  by  God  like  the  Gentiles,  if 
they  offend.  Deut.  viii,  19  :  "If  thou  forget  the  Lord  thy 
God,  and  walk  after  other  gods,  and  serve  them,  and  worship 
them  ;  I  testify  against  you  this  day,  that  you  shall  surely  per- 
ish ;  as  the  nations  which  the  Lord  destroy eth  before  your  face, 
so  shall  you  perish." 

That  the  Gentiles  shall  be  received  of  God,  even  as  the  Jews, 
if  they  love  him.  Is.  Ivi,  3  :  "  Let  not  the  Gentiles  say  :  The 
Lord  will  not  receive  me.  The  strangers  that  attach  themselves 
to  God  will  serve  and  love  him :  I  shall  lead  them  to  my  holy 
mountain,  and  shall  receive  sacrifices  from  them,  for  my  house 
is  a  house  of  prayer." 

That  the  true  Jews  ascribed  their  merit  to  God,  and  not  to 
Abraham.    Is.  Ixiii,  16  :  "  Doubtless  thou  art  our  father,  though 
Abraham  be.  ignorant  of  us,  and  Israel  acknowledge  us  not 
thou,  0  Lord,  art  our  Father,  our  Redeemer." 

Moses  even  told  them  that  God  would  not  regard  persons. 
Deut.  x,  17  :  God,  said  he,  "  regards  not  persons,  neither  taketh 
he  reward." 

That  the  circumcision  of  the  heart  is  enjoined.  Deut.  x,  16  • 
„  er.  iv,  4  :  "  Circumcise,  therefore,  the  foreskin  of  your  heart, 

13° 


298  PASCAL. — THOUGHTS. 

and  be  no  more  stiff-necked.  For  the  Lord  your  God  is  God 
of  gods,  and  Lord  of  lords,  a  great  God,  a  mighty,  a  terrible, 
which  regards  not  persons." 

That  God  said  he  would  do  this  at  some  future  day.  Deut. 
xxx,  6 :  M  And  the  Lord  thy  God  will  circumcise  thy  heart, 
and  the  heart  of  thy  seed,  to  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all 
thy  heart." 

That  the  uncircumcised  in  heart  shall  be  judged.  Jer.  ix, 
26  :  "  For  God  will  punish  them  which  are  circumcised  with 
the  uncircumcised  ;  for  all  these  nations  are  uncircumcised, 
and  all  the  house  of  Israel  are  uncircumcised  in  heart." 

That  the  exterior  avails  naught  without  the  interior.  Joel 
ii,  13  :  Scindite  corda  vestra,  etc.  Is.  Iviii,  3,  4,  etc. 

The  love  of  God  is  enjoined  throughout  the  whole  of  Deuter- 
onomy. Deut.  xxx,  19  :  "I  call  heaveii  and  earth  to  record 
this  day  against  you,  that  I  have  set  before  you  life  and  death, 
blessing  and  cursing ;  therefore  choose  life,  that  both  thou  and 
thy  seed  may  live ;  that  thou  mayest  love  the  Lord  thy  God, 
and  that  thou  mayest  obey  his  voice,  and  that  thou  mayest 
cleave  unto  him,  for  he  is  thy  life." 

That  the  Jews,  for  want  of  this  love,  would  be  rejected  for 
their  crimes,  and  the  Gentiles  elected  in  their  place.  Has.  i, 
[10];  Deut.  xxxii,  20:  "I  will  hide  my  face  from  them,  for 
they  are  a  very  froward  nation,  and  unbelieving.  They  have 
moved  me  to  jealousy  with  that  which  is  not  God ;  and  I  will 
move  them  to  jealousy  with  those  which  are  not  a  people1.  I 
will  provoke  them  to  anger  with  a  foolish  nation."  Is.  Ixv,  [1]. 

That  temporal  goods  are  false,  and  that  the  true  good  is  to 
be  united  to  God.  Ps.  cxliii,  15. 

That  theii  feasts  are  displeasing  to  God.     Amos  v,  21. 

That  the  sacrifices  of  the  Jews  are  displeasing  to  God.  Is. 
Ixvi,  [1-3]  ;  i,  11  ;  Jer.  vi,  20  ;  David,  Miserere,  [18]. — Even 
on  the  part  of  the  good.  Exapectans.  Ps.  xlix,  8-14.  That 
he  has  established  them  only  on  account  of  their  hardness. 
Wtrh.,  admirably,  vi,  [6-8]  ;  /.  R.  [first  book  of  Kings],  xv,  22  • 
Hosea  vi,  6. 

That  the.  sacrifices  of  the  Gentiles  shall  be  accepted  of  Goo. 


CHAPTER  XVi.  29S 

and  that  the  sacrifices  of  the  Jews  were  not  acceptable  to  him. 
Mai  i,  11. 

That  God  will  make  a  new  covenant  by  the  Messiah,  and 
that  the  old  one  shall  be  abolished.  Jer.  xxxi,  31.  Mandate* 
non  bona.  Ezek. 

That  the  former  things  shall  be  forgotten.  /*.  xliii,  18, 19 ; 
Lev,  17,  18. 

That  the  ark  shall  be  no  more  remembered.    Jer.  iii,  15, 16. 

That  the  temple  shall  be  rejected.    Jer.  vii,  12-14. 

That  the  sacrifices  should  be  rejected,  and  a  purer  sacrifice 
established.  Mai.  i,  11. 

That  the  order  of  the  Aaronic  priesthood  would  be  rejected, 
and  that  of  Melchisedek  introduced  by  the  Messiah.  Dixit 
itominus. 

That  this  priesthood  should  be  everlasting.     Ibid. 

That  Jerusalem  would  be  rejected,  and  Rome  admitted. 
That  the  name  of  the  Jews  would  be  rejected  and  a  new  name 
given.  Is.  Ixv,  15. 

That  this  last  name  would  be  better  than  that  of  the  Jews, 
and  eternal.  /*.  Ivi,  5. 

That  the  Jews  shall  be  without  prophets  (Amos),  kinga, 
princes,  sacrifices,  idols. 

That,  nevertheless,  the  Jews  should  always  subsist  as  a  peo- 
ple. Jer.  xxxi,  3d. 


PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 


CHAPTEK   XVII. 

[THAT  THE  OLD  LAW  WAS  FIGURATIVE,  AND  THAT  TH«  OLD  TESTAMENI 
CONTAINS  THE  FIGURE  OF  TRUTHS  FULFILLED  BY  THE  COMING  OF  TH< 

MESSIAH.] 

I. 

SOME  figures  are  clear  and  demonstrative ;  but  there  aro 
others  which  seem  forced,  and  which  convince  those  only  who 
have  been  persuaded  by  other  means.  These  latter  are  like 
those  of  the  Apocalypse.  But  the  difference  is,  that  they  have 
none  that  are  unquestionable.  So  that  there  is  nothing  so  un- 
just as  when  they  attempt  to  show  that  theirs  are  as  well 
founded  as  some  of  ours  ;  for  they  have  none  that  are  demon- 
strative like  some  of  ours.  The  cases,  then,  are  not  parallel. 
Men  should  not  compare  and  confound  these  things  because 
they  appear  to  be  alike  in  one  respect,  being  so  different  in 
another.  It  is  the  lucidities  that  merit,  if  they  are  divine, 
that  we  should  revere  the  obscurities. 

II. 

Jesus  Christ,  prefigured  by  Joseph,  the  well  beloved  of  his 
father,  sent  by  his  father  to  see  his  brethren,  etc.,  innocent, 
sold  by  his  brethren  for  twenty  pieces  of  silver,  and,  by  this 
means,  become  their  lord,  their  saviour,  and  the  saviour  of 
strangers,  and  the  saviour  of  the  world ;  which  would  not  have 
come  to  pass  without  the  design  of  destroying  him,  without 
the  sale  and  the  abandonment  they  made  of  him. 

In  prison,  Joseph,  who  was  innocent,  was  placed  between 
'riminals  :  Jesus  Christ  on  the  cross  was  placed  between  two 
thieves.  Joseph  predicted  salvation  to  one  and  death  to  the 
other,  on  the  same  appearances  :  Jesus  Christ  saves  the  elect 
and  damns  the  reprobate,  though  both  are  guilty  of  the 
same  crime.  Joseph  only  predicted :  Jesus  Christ  fulfilled 


CHAPTER  xvn.  301 

Joseph  asked  the  one  who  was  to  be  saved  to  remember  him 
when  he  was  restored  to  his  prosperity ;  and  he  whom  Jesu; 
Christ  saved  prayed  that  he  would  remember  him  when  he 
came  in  his  kingdom. 

m. 

The  synagogue  did  not  perish  because  it  was  the  figure,  but, 
because  it  was  only  the  figure,  it  has  fallen  into  servitude.  The 
figure  subsisted  until  the  truth  came,  in  order  that  the  Church 
might  be  always  visible,  either  in  the  image  that  promised  it, 
or  in  the  reality. 

IV. 

Proof  of  both  Testaments  at  once. — To  prove  at  once  the  two 
Testaments,  it  is  only  necessary  to  see  whether  the  prophecies 
of  the  one  have  been  fulfilled  in  the  other.  To  examine  the 
prophecies,  it  is  necessary  to  understand  them  :  for  if  we  be- 
lieve that  they  have  but  one  meaning,  it  is  certain  that  the 
Messiah  has  not  come  ;  but,  if  they  have  a  double  meaning,  it 
is  certain  that  he  has  come  in  the  person  of  JESUS  CHRIST. 

The  whole  question,  then,  is  to  know  whether  they  have  two 
meanings  .... 

V. 

Figures. — In  order  to  show  that  the  Old  Testament  is  only 
figurative,  and  that  the  prophets  understood  by  temporal  goods 
other  goods,  we  have  only  to  notice,  first,  that  this  would  be 
anworthy  of  God ;  secondly,  that  their  language  expresses  very 
clearly  the  promise  of  temporal  goods,  and  that  they  say,  never- 
theless, that  their  language  is  obscure,  and  that  their  meaning 
will  not  be  understood.  Whence  it  appears  that  the  mean- 
ing was  net  J.hat  which  they  expressed  openly,  and  that,  conse- 
quently, they  intended  to  speak  of  other  sacrifices,  of  another 
liberator,  etc.  They  say  that  it  will  not  bo  understood  till  the 
end  of  time.  Jerem.  xxx,  24. 

The  third  proof  is,  that  their  discourses  are  contradictor}, 
and  destroy  each  other,  so  that,  if  we  believe  them  to  have 
intended  by  the  words  law  and  sacrifice  something  differen* 


302  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

from  the  law  and  sacrifice  of  Moses,  there  is  a  manifest  and 
gross  contradiction.  'j.hen  they  understood  something  else, 
contradicting  themselves  sometimes  even  in  the  same  chapter. . . 

VI. 

Figures. — If  the  law  and  the  sacrifices  are  the  truth,  they 
must  be  pleasing  to  God,  and  not  displeasing.  If  they  are 
figures,  they  must  please  and  displease.  Now,  in  all  Scripture 
they  please  and  displease. 

It  is  said  that  the  law  shall  be  changed ;  that  the  sacrifice 
shall  be  changed ;  that  they  shall  be  without  a  king,  without 
a  prince,  and  without  sacrifices ;  that  a  new  covenant  shall  be 
made ;  that  the  law  shall  be  renewed ;  that  the  precepts  which 
they  have  received  are  not  good ;  that  their  sacrifices  are 
abominable  ;  that  God  has  not  required  them. 

It  is  said,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  law  shall  endure  forever ; 
that  this  covenant  shall  be  eternal ;  that  the  sacrifice  shall  be 
eternal ;  that  the  sceptre  shall  never  leave  them,  since  it  can- 
not leave  them  until  the  arrival  of  the  Eternal  King.  Do  all 
these  passages  indicate  that  this  is  the  reality  ?  No.  Do  they 
indicate  either  that  this  is  a  figure  ?  No :  but  that  it  is  reality 
or  figure.  But  the  first,  excluding  the  reality,  indicate  that  it 
is  only  figure. 

All  these  passages  together  cannot  mean  the  reality ;  all 
may  mean  the  figure;  therefore,  they  do  not  indicate  the 
reality,  but  the  figure.  Agnus  occisus  est  ab  origine  mundi. 

VH. 

Figures. — A  portrait  bears  absence  and  presence,  pleasuie 
and  displeasure.  The  reality  excludes  absence  and  displeasure. 

In  order  to  ascertain  whether  the  law  and  the  sacrifices 
are  reality  or  figure,  we  must  observe  whether  the  prophets, 
in  speaking  of  these  things,  terminated  their  view  and  their 
thought  therein,  so  that  they  saw  only  this  ancient  cove- 
nant ;  or  whether  they  saw  therein  some  other  thing,  of  which 
this  might  be  the  image  ;  for  in  a  portrait  we  see  the  thing 


CHAPTER   XVH.  303 

imaged.  It  is  necessary  for  this  only  to  examine  what  they 
say  of  these  things. 

When  they  say  that  this  covenant  shall  be  eternal,  are  they 
understood  to  speak  of  the  covenant,  of  which  they  say  that  it 
shall  be  changed  ;  and  the  same  of  the  sacrifices,  etc.  ? 

A  cipher  has  two  meanings. — When  we  intercept  a  letter  of 
importance  wherein  we  find  a  clear  meaning,  and  in  which  it 
is  said,  nevertheless,  that  its  sense  is  veiled  and  obscured  ;  that 
it  is  hidden,  so  that  we  shall  see  this  letter  without  perceiving 
it,  and  we  shall  hear  it  without  understanding  it ;  what  ought 
we  to  th'nk,  except  that  it  is  a  cipher  of  double  signification ; 
and  much  more  so  when  we  find  in  it  manifest  contradictions 
in  the  literal  sense  ?  How  much,  then,  ought  we  to  esteem 
those  who  discover  to  us  the  cipher,  and  teach  us  to  know  the 
hidden  meaning ;  and  particularly  when  the  principles  which 
they  take  from  it  are  quite  natural  and  clear !  This  is  what 
JESUS  CHRIST  has  done,  and  the  apostles  also.  He  has  broken 
the  seal,  he  has  rent  the  veil,  and  disclosed  the  spirit.  They 
have  taught  us  that  the  enemies  of  man  are  his  passions ;  that 
the  Redeemer  would  be  spiritual ;  that  there  should  be  two 
advents,  the  one  in  misery,  to  abase  proud  man,  the  other 
in  glory,  to  exalt  man  humiliated ;  that  JESUS  CHRIST  should 
be  God  and  man.  The  prophets  have  clearly  said  that  Israel 
would  always  be  loved  by  God,  and  that  the  law  would  be 
eternal ;  and  they  have  said  that  they  would  not  understand 
their  meaning,  and  that  it  was  veiled. 

vm. 

JESUS  CHRIST  has  done  nothing  else  than  to  teach  men  that 
tijey  loved  themselves,  and  that  they  were  slaves,  blind,  sick, 
unhappy,  and  sinners ;  that  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  de- 
liver, enlighten,  sanctify,  and  heal  them ;  that  this  would  be 
accomplished  in  hating  themselves,  and  following  him  through 
the  misery  and  death  of  the  cross. 

^[  That  the  law  was  figurative. — This  is  the  cipher  that 
St.  Paul  gives  us.  The  letter  kills.  All  things  came  in  fig 
ares.  It  was  necessary  that  Christ  should  suffer.  A  God  ii 


304  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

humiliation.  Circumcision  of  the  heart,  a  true  fast,  a  true 
sacrifice,  a  true  temple.  The  prophets  have  indicated  that  it 
was  necessary  that  all  these  things  should  be  spiritual. 

^[  Figures. — Double  law,  double  tables  of  the  law,  double 
temple,  double  captivity. 

rx. 

. . .  And  yet  this  Testament,  made  to  blind  some  and  en- 
lighten others,  showed  even  to  those  whom  it  blinded,  that 
truth  which  must  have  been  known  to  the  others.  For  the 
visible  blessings  which  they  received  from  God  were  so  great 
and  so  divine  that  it  appeared  clearly  that  he  was  able  to  give 
them  those  invisible  and  a  Messiah. 

For  nature  is  an  image  of  grace,  and  visible  miracles  are 
images  of  the  invisible.  Ut  sciatis,  tibi  dico,  Surge. 

Isaiah,  ch.  li,  says  that  the  Red  Sea  is  a  type  of  redemption. 

God  has  shown,  then,  in  the  deliverance  from  Egypt,  from 
the  sea,  in  the  defeat  of  the  kings,  in  the  manna,  in  the  whole 
genealogy  of  Abraham,  that  he  had  power  to  save,  to  make 
bread  descend  from  heaven,  etc. ;  so  that  a  hostile  people  is 
the  type  and  representation  of  the  very  Messiah  of  whom  they 
are  ignorant. 

He  has  then,  in  fine,  taught  us  that  all  these  things  were 
but  figures,  and  also  what  is  the  truly  free,  the  true  Israelite, 
the  true  circumcision,  the  true  bread  from  heaven,  etc. 

In  these  promises,  every  one  finds  what  is  in  the  bottom  of 
his  heart,  temporal  blessings  or  spiritual  blessings,  God  or  the 
creature ;  but  with  this  difference,  that  those  who  seek  in  them 
the  creature  find  it,  but  with  many  contradictions,  with  the 
prohibition  to  love  it,  with  the  command  to  adore  God  alone, 
(ind  to  love  only  him,  which  is  the  same  thing,  and  that,  finally, 
no  Messiah  has  come  for  them ;  while  those  who  seek  God  in 
them  find  him,  and  without  any  contradictions,  with  the  com- 
mand to  love  only  him,  that  a  Messiah  came  in  the  time  pre- 
dicted to  give  them  the  blessings  which  they  ask. 

And  thus  the  Jews  had  mirages,  prophecies,  which  they 
»aw  fulfilled ;  and  the  doctrine  of  their  law  was  to  adore  and 


CHAFfER   XVII.  305 

love  only  one  God :  this  doctrine  was  perpetual,  too.  Thus, 
it  had  all  the  signs  of  the  true  religion  :  so  it  was.  But  we 
must  distinguish  the  doctrine  of  the  Jews  from  the  doctrine 
of  the  Jewish  law.  Now,  the  doctrine  of  the  Jews  was  not 
true,  although  it  had  its  miracles,  its  prophecies,  and  per- 
petuity, because  it  had  not  this  other  point  to  adore  and  love 
only  God. 

X. 

Source  of  contrarieties. — A  God  humiliated,  and  even  to  the 
death  of  the  cross :  a  Messiah  triumphant  over  death  by  his 
death.  Two  natures  in  Jesus  Christ,  two  advents,  two  states 
of  the  nature  of  man. 

^[  Contradiction. — We  cannot  make  a  good  physiognomy1 
but  in  harmonizing  all  our  contrarieties ;  it  is  not  sufficient  to 
follow  one  series  of  accordant  qualities,  without  conciliating 
the  contrary.  To  understand  the  sense  of  an  author,  it  is 
necessary  to  reconcile  all  the  contradictory  passages. 

Thus,  to  understand  the  Scripture,  it  is  necessary  to  have  a 
sense  in  which  all  the  contradictory  passages  agree.  It  is  not 
sufficient  to  have  one  which  agrees  with  several  analogous 
passages ;  but  there  must  be  one  which  makes  even  contradic- 
tory passages  agree. 

Every  author  has  a  meaning  with  which  all  the  contradic- 
tory passages  agree,  or  he  has  no  meaning  at  all.  This  cannot 
be  said  of  the  Scripture  and  of  the  prophets.  They  had 
assuredly  too  much  good  sense.  We  must  then  seek  a  mean- 
ing in  them  which  will  harmonize  all  contrarieties. 

The  veritable  sense,  then,  is  not  that  of  the  Jews ;  but  in 
Jesus  Christ  all  the  contradictions  are  reconciled. 

The  Jews  could  not  reconcile  the  termination  of  royalty  and 
principality,  predicted  by  Hosen,  with  the  prophecy  of  Jacob. 

If  we  take  the  law,  the  sacrifices,  and  the  kingdom  for  reali- 
ties, we  cannot  make  all  the  passages  agree.  'They  must,  then, 

1  That  is,  we  cannot  make  a  good  portrait  but  by  representing  tht 
diverse  expressions  of  the  countenance,  even  the  most  opposite.  This  ex 
planation  is  by  M.  Havet,  and  we  entirely  subscribe  to  it. 


306  PASCAL,. THOUGHTS. 

necessarily  be  only  figures.  We  could  not  reconcile  even  the 
passages  of  the  same  author,  of  the  same  book,  sometimes  of 
the  same  chapter.  This  more  than  sufficiently  indicates  what 
was  the  sense  of  the  author.  As  when  Ezekiel,  ch.  xx,  says, 
they  shall  live  in  the  commandments  of  God ;  and,  they  shall 
not  live  in  them. 

XI. 

It  was  not  permitted  to  sacrifice  out  of  Jerusalem,  which  waa 
the  place  that  the  Lord  had  chosen,  nor  even  to  eat  the  tithes 
elsewhere.  Deut^  xii,  5,  etc. ;  xiv,  23,  etc. ;  xv,  20 ;  xvi,  2, 
7,  11,  15. 

Hosea  predicted  that  they  would  be  without  a  king,  without 
a  prince,  without  sacrifices,  and  without  idols ;  which  is  now 
accomplished,  not  being  able  to  make  a  legitimate  sacrifice  out 
of  Jerusalem. 

XII. 

When  the  word  of  God,  which  is  veritable,  is  literally  false, 
it  is  spiritually  true.  Sede  a  dextris  mm.1  Literally,  this  is 
false;  therefore,  spiritually  it  is  true.  In  these  expressions, 
God  is  spoken  of  after  the  manner  of  men ;  and  this  means  no 
more  than  that  God  has  the  same  intention  as  men  have,  when 
they  cause  another  to  sit  at  their  right  hand.  This  is,  then, 
an  indication  of  the  intention  of  God,  not  of  his  manner  of  ex- 
ecuting it. 

So  when  it  is  said :  God  has  received  the  odor  of  your  in- 
cense, and  will  recompense  you  with  a  fruitful  land ;  the  inten- 
tion is  the  same  as  a  man  would  have,  who,  accepting  your 
incense,  would  recompense  you  by  giving  you  a  fruitful  land. 
God  will  have  the  same  intention  for  you,  because  you  have 
had  the  same  intention  with  respect  to  him,  as  a  man  has  for 
him  to  whom  he  gives  incense.  Thus,  iratus  est,  "  A  jealous 
God,"  etc.  For  the  things  of  God  being  unutterable,  they  can- 
not be  otherwise  expressed,  and  the  Church  to-day  still  uses : 
Quiet  confortavit  seras. 

1  SU  thou  on  my  right  hand. 


OHAPTEK  xvn.  307 


XIII. 

All  that  tends  not  to  charity  is  figure. 

The  only  object  of  the  Scripture  is  charity.  Whatever 
tends  not  to  this  exclusive  end  is  but  its  figure :  for,  since 
there  is  but  one  end,  every  thing  that  does  not  tend  to  it  in 
literal  words,  is  figure. 

God  thus  diversifies  this  one  precept  of  charity,  in  order  to 
satisfy  our  curiosity,  which  seeks  diversity,  by  this  diversity^ 
whicl  leads  us  ever  towards  the  one  thing  needful.  For  one 
thing  only  is  necessary,  and  we  love  variety ;  and  God  satisfies 
both  by  these  diversities,  which  lead  to  the  one  thing  needful. 

XIV. 

The  Rabbins  interpret  figuratively  the  breasts  of  the  Spouse,1 
and  every  thing  which  does  not  express  their  only  object, — 
temporal  good.  And  Christians  interpret  even  the  Eucharist 
as  a  figure  of  the  glory  to  which  they  are  tending. 

XV. 

There  are  those  who  see  clearly  that  the  only  enemy  of  man 
is  concupiscence,  which  turns  him  from  God,  and  that  it  is  not 
God  who  withdraws  himself  from  man  ;  nor  any  other  good 
but  God  and  not  a  fruitful  land.  Those  who  believe  that  the 
good  of  man  is  in  the  flesh,  and  the  evil  in  that  which  turns 
him  from  the  pleasures  of  the  senses,  let  them  thus  defile  them- 
selves and  let  them  die  therein.  But  those  who  seek  God  with 
all  their  heart,  who  have  no  sorrow  but  in  being  deprived  of 
his  presence,  who  have  no  desire  but  to  possess  him,  and  no 
enemies  but  those  who  turn  them  from  him ;  who  are  afflicted 
in  seeing  themselves  surrounded  and  oppressed  by  such  ene- 
mies ;  let  them  be  comforted,  I  bring  them  good  news ;  there 
is  a  Liberator  for  them,  I  shall  cause  them  to  see  him ;  I  shall 
ihow  thenr  that  there  is  a  God  for  them  I  shall  show  him  tc 

1  The  Spouse  of  the  So  g  of  Solomon. 


308  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

no  others.  I  shall  show  that  a  Messiah  was  promised  who 
would  deliver  them  from  their  enemies ;  and  that  one  has  come 
to  deliver  from  iniquities,  but  not  from  enemies. 

XVI. 

When  David  predicts  that  the  Messiah  shall  deliver  his 
people  from  his  enemies,  we  might  think,  carnally,  that  it  was 
from  the  Egyptians;  and  then  I  could  not  show  that  the 
prophecy  was  fulfilled.  But  we  can  easily  believe  that  it  was 
from  their  iniquities :  for,  in  truth,  the  Egyptians  were  not 
enemies,  but  the  iniquities  were.  This  word,  enemies,  is,  then, 
equivocal. 

But  if  he  says  elsewhere,  as  he  does  in  common  with  Isaiah 
and  others,  that  he  shall  deliver  his  people  from  their  sins,  the 
equivocation  is  removed,  and  the  double  sense  of  the  word 
enemies  is  reduced  to  the  simple  sense  of  iniquities :  for,  if  he 
had  the  sins  in  his  mind,  he  might  easily  denote  them  by  the 
word  enemies ;  but  if  he  were  thinking  of  the  enemies,  he 
could  not  designate  them  by  the  word  iniquities. 

Now,  Moses  and  David  and  Isaiah  employed  the  same  terms. 
Who  shall  say,  then,  that  they  had  not  the  same  sense,  and 
that  the  meaning  of  David,  which  is  manifestly  that  of  iniqui- 
ties when  he  is  speaking  of  enemies,  was  not  the  same  as  that 
of  Moses  when  he  is  speaking  of  enemies  1 

Daniel,  ch.  ix,  prays  for  the  deliverance  of  the  people  from  the 
captivity  of  their  enemies ;  but  he  was  thinking  of  their  sins : 
and,  in  order  to  show  it,  he  said  that  Gabriel  came  to  assure 
him  that  his  prayer  was  heard,  and  that  he  had  only  seventy 
weeks  to  wait ;  after  which  period  the  people  would  be  deliv- 
ered from  iniquity,  and  sin  would  come  to  an  end ;  and  the 
Liberator,  the  Holy  of  holies,  would  bring  everlasting  justice, 
not  the  legal,  but  the  eternal. 

^[  Fiyares. — As  soon  as  we  have  once  opened  this  secret,  it 
is  impossible  not  to  perceive  it.  Let  us  read  the  Old  Testa- 
ment with  this  view,  and  let  us  see  whether  the  sacrifices  were 
true,  whether  the  parentage  of  Abraham  was  the  true  cause  of 


CHAPTER  xvn.  309 

the  friendship  of  God,  whether  the  promised  land  was  the  ver- 
rtable  place  of  rest.  No.  Then  they  were  figures.  Let  us  see, 
in  the  same  way,  all  the  ordained  ceremonies,  all  the  com- 
mandments which  have  not  for  their  end  charity,  we  shall  find 
them  all  figurative. 

•J"  All  these  sacrifices  and  ceremonies  were  then  figurative 
or  meaningless.  Now  there  are  clear  things  too  exalted  to  b« 
regarded  as  meaningless. 


310  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 


CHAPTEE  XVIII. 

[THAT  DURING  FOUE  THOUSAND  YEARS  CHRIST  WAS  FORETOLD  BT  TH«  PROPH- 
ECIES, AND  THAT  HE  HAS  BEEN  PROVED  BY  THEIR  FULFILMENT.] 


THE  greatest  of  the  proofs  of  JESUS  CHRIST  are  the  proph- 
ecies. They  are  also  what  God  has  the  most  provided  for ;  for 
the  event  which  has  fulfilled  them  is  a  miracle  which  has  sub- 
sisted from  the  birth  of  the  Church  even  to  the  end.  During 
sixteen  hundred  years  therefore  God  raised  up  a  succession  of 
prophets ;  and,  in  the  four  hundred  years  that  succeeded,  he 
dispersed  all  these  prophecies,  with  the  Jews  who  bore  them, 
into  all  parts  of  the  world.  This,  then,  was  the  preparation 
for  the  birth  of  JESUS  CHRIST,  whose  Gospel  was  to  be  believed 
by  the  whole  world,  it  was  necessary,  not  only  that  there  should 
be  prophecies,  to  make  him  be  believed,  but  that  these  proph- 
ecies should  be  everywhere  in  the  world,  in  order  to  cause  him 
to  be  embraced  by  the  whole  world. 

^[  Prophecies. — Even  if  one  man  had  made  a  book  of  pie- 
dictions  of  JESUS  CHRIST,'  both  of  the  time  and  the  manner  of 
his  coming,  and  if  JESUS  CHRIST  had  come  in  conformity  with 
these  prophecies,  this  would  be  of  infinite  weight.  But  there 
is  much  more  here.  There  is  a  succession  of  men,  who  come, 
during  four  thousand  years,  constantly  and  without  variation, 
one  after  another,  predicting  the  same  event.  A  whole  people 
announce  him,  and  subsist  during  four  thousand  years,  in 
order  to  render  as  a  body  testimony  of  the  assurances  which 
they  have  of  him,  and  from  which  they  can  be  turned  by  no 
menaces  and  persecutions :  this  is  much  more  important. 

1  That  is,  predictions  announcing  Jesus  Christ. 


CHAPTER  iVIIL  311 

n. 

Prophecies. — The  time  was  predicted  by  the  state  of  the 
Jewish  people,  by  the  state  of  the  heathen  people,  by  the  state 
of  the  temple,  by  the  number  of  years.  There  must  have  been 
great  boldness  to  predict  the  same  thing  in  so  many  ways. 

It  was  necessary  that  the  four  idolatrous  or  pagan  monarch- 
ies, the  end  of  the  reign  of  Judah  and  the  seventy  weeks  should 
have  come  to  pass  at  the  same  time,  and  all  before  the  second 
temple  should  be  destroyed. 

*|J"  Predictions. —  . .  .  That  in  the  fourth  monarchy,  before 
the  destruction  of  the  second  temple,  before  the  dominion  of 
the  Jews  should  be  taken  away,  in  the  seventieth  week  of 
Daniel,  pending  the  duration  of  the  second  temple,  the  heathen 
should  be  instructed,  and  led  to  the  knowledge  of  the  God  wor- 
shipped by  the  Jews ;  that  those  who  loved  him  should  be  de- 
livered from  their  enemies,  and  filled  with  his  fear  and  his  love. 

And  it  happened  that  in  the  fourth  monarchy,  before  the 
destruction  of  the  second  temple,  etc.,  the  heathen  in  multi- 
tudes worshipped  God,  and  led  angelic  lives ;  the  maidens  con- 
secrated their  virginity  and  their  life  to  God ;  the  men  re- 
nounced all  pleasure.  What  Plato  could  not  persuade  a  few 
chosen  and  enlightened  men  to  receive,  a  secret  power,  by  the 
virtue  of  a  few  words,  persuaded  a  hundred  thousand  ignorant 
men  to  receive. 

The  rich  forsook  their  possessions,  the  children  forsook  the 
delicate  homes  of  their  parents  to  plunge  into  the  austerities  ol 
a  desert,  etc.  (See  Philo  Judaeus.)  Whence  comes  all  this. 
It  is  what  has  been  predicted  so  long  before.  For  two  thou- 
sand years  no  heathen  had  worshipped  the  God  of  the  Jews ; 
and  jn  the  time  predicted,  the  multitude  of  the  heathen  adored 
this  only  God.  The  temples  were  destroyed,  the  kings  sub- 
mitted themselves  to  the  cross.  What  means  all  this  ?  It  is 
the  Spirit  of  God  that  is  poured  out  over  the  earth. 

^[  Effundam  spiritura  meitm. — All  nations  were  in  iafidelity 
\nd  concupiscence ;  the  whole  earth  was  burning  with  charity 
The  princes  forsook  their  splendors ;  girls  suffered  martyrdom 


312  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

Whence  comes  this  power?  It  is  because  the  Messiah  has 
come.  Behold  the  effect  and  the  signs  of  his  arrival. 

^[  Prediction. — It  is  predicted  th^  at  the  time  of  the  Mes- 
siah, a  new  covenant  would  be  established  by  him,  which 
would  make  them  forget  their  departure  from  Egypt  [Jerem, 
xxiii,  5 ;  Is.  xliii,  16] ;  that  he  would  write  his  law,  not  ex- 
ternally, but  in  their  hearts ;  that  JESUS  CHRIST  would  put  hia 
fear,  which  had  been  only  external,  into  the  midst  of  their 
hearts.  Who  does  not  see  the  Christian  law  in  all  this  ? 

^[  Prophecy. — That  the  Jews  would  reject  JESUS  CHRIST, 
and  that  they  would  be  rejected  by  God,  for  the  reason  that 
the  chosen  vine  would  give  only  sour  grapes.  That  the  chosen 
people  would  be  unfaithful,  ungrateful,  and  incredulous :  popu- 
lum  non  credentem  et  contradicentem.  That  God  would  smite 
them  with  blindness,  and  that  they  would  grope  as  the  blind 
at  noon-day.  [Deut.  xxviii,  28.] 

^[  . . .  That  JESUS  CHRIST  would  be  little  in  his  commence- 
ment, but  would  grow  in  his  progress.  The  little  stone  of  Daniel. 

T  . .  •  That  their  idolatry  would  be  overthrown ;  that  the 
Messiah  would  destroy  all  the  idols,  and  would  make  men 
enter  into  the  worship  of  the  true  God. 

That  the  temples  of  idolatry  would  be  destroyed,  and  that, 
among  all  nations  and  in  all  places  in  the  world,  a  pure  victim 
would  be  offered  to  him,  and  not  animals. 

^[  .  . .  That  he  would  teach  men  the  perfect  way. 

And  never  has  there  appeared,  either  before  or  since,  any 
man  who  has  taught  any  divine  thing  approaching  this. 

*j[  . . .  That  he  would  be  the  king  of  the  Jews  and  the  Gen- 
tiles. And  behold  this  king  of  the  Jews  and  the  Gentiles,  op- 
pressed by  both,  who  conspire  together  for  his  death,  ruling 
over  both,  and  destroying  both  the  worship  of  Moses  in  Jeru- 
salem, which  was  its  centre,  and  where  he  founded  his  first 
church  and  the  worship  of  idols  in  Rome,  which  was  its  centre- 
and  where  he  established  his  principal  church. 

^[  . .  .  JESUS  CHRIST  came  to  tell  men  that  they  have  no 
other  enemies  than  themselves ;  that  it  is  their  passions  which 
•eparate  them  from  God ;  that  he  came  to  destroy  them,  and 


CHAPTER  xvra.  313 

to  give  them  his  grace,  in  order  to  make  of  them  all  one  holy 
Church ;  that  he  came  to  gather  into  this  Church  botl1  Gen- 
tiles and  Jews ;  that  he  came  to  destroy  the  idols  of  the  one, 
and  the  superstition  of  the  other. 

To  this  all  men  were  opposed,  not  only  by  the  natural  an- 
tipathy of  their  concupiscence ;  but,  above  all,  the  kings  of  the 
earth  united  themselves  in  order  to  abolish  this  nascent  reli- 
gion, as  it  had  been  predicted  (  Quare  tremuerunt  gentes.  Reges 
terrce  adversus  Christum).  All  who  were  great  on  the  earth 
united,  the  learned,  the  wise,  the  kings. 

Some  wrote,  others  condemned,  others  killed.  And,  not- 
withstanding all  these  oppositions,  these  simple  and  powerless 
people  resisted  all  these  powers,  and  even  overcame  these 
kings,  these  philosophers,  these  sages,  and  removed  idolatry 
from  the  whole  earth.  And  all  this  was  wrought  by  the  power 
that  predicted  it. 

*fl"  .  .  .  The  Jews,  in  killing  him  in  order  not  to  receive  him 
as  the  Messiah,  gave  him  the  last  proof  of  his  Messiahship. 
And,  in  continuing  to  deny  him,  they  rendered  themselves 
irrefragable  witnesses :  both  in  killing  him  and  in  continuing 
to  deny  him,  they  fulfilled  the  prophecies.  Is.  Iv,  [5] ;  Ix,  [4, 
etc.];  Ps.  Ixxi,  [11,  18,  etc.]. 

^[  .  .  .  jEnigmatis,  Ezek.  xvii,  [2]. 

His  forerunner.     Malach.  iii,  [1]. 

A  child  shall  be  born.     Is.  ix,  [6]. 

He  shall  be  born  in  the  town  of  Bethlehem.  Afic.  v,  [2], 
He  shall  appear  principally  in  Jerusalem,  and  shall  spring  from 
the  family  of  Judah  and  of  David. 

He  shall  confound  the  wise  and  the  learned  (Is.  vi,  [10], 
viii,  [14,  15],  xxix,  [10,  etc.]),  and  preach  the  Gospel  to  the 
poor  and  humble  (Is.  xxix,  [18,  19]),  open  the  eyes  of  the  blind, 
give  health  to  the  sick,  and  lead  those  to  the  light  who  lan- 
guished in  darkness.  Is.  Ix'i,  [1]. 

He  shall  teach  the  perfect  way,  and  be  the  instructor  of  the 
Gentiles.  Is.  Iv,  [4]  ;  xlii,  [1-7]. 

.  . .  That  he  shall  be  the  victim  offered  for  the  sins  of  the 
world.  Is.  xxxix,  liii,  [5],  etc. 

14 


314  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

He  shall  be  the  precious  foundation-stone.     Is.  xxviii,  [16], 

He  shall  be  the  stone  of  stumbling  and  of  offence.  Is.  viii, 
[14],  Jerusalem  shall  dash  against  this  stone. 

The  builders  shall  reject  this  stone.     Ps.  cxvii,  [22]. 

God  shall  make  of  this  stone  the  head  of  the  corner. 

And  this  stone  shall  grow  unto  a  mountain,  and  shall  fill  the 
whole  earth.  Dan.  ii,  [35]. 

That  thus  he  shall  be  rejected  (Ps,  cviii,  [8]),  disowned,  be- 
trayed, sold  (Zach.  xi,  [12]);  spit  upon,  buffeted,  mocked, 
afflicted  in  numberless  ways,  given  gall  to  drink  (Ps.  Ixviii, 
[22]),  pierced  (Zach.  xii,  [10]),  his  feet  and  his  hands  pierced, 
himself  killed,  and  his  garments  divided  by  lot. 

That  he  shall  rise  again  (Ps.  xv,  [10]),  the  third  day.  Hosea 
vi,  [3]. 

That  he  shall  ascend  to  heaven  to  sit  at  the  right  hand  of 
God.  Ps.  cix,  [1]. 

That  kings  shall  arm  themselves  against  him.     Ps.  ii,  [2]. 

That  being  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father,  he  shall  be  vic- 
torious over  his  enemies. 

That  the  kings  of  the  earth,  and  all  nations  shall  adore  him. 
Is.  Ix,  [14]. 

That  the  Jews  shall  always  subsist  as  a  nation.     Jerem. 

That  they  shall  be  wanderers,  without  kings,  etc.  (Hosea  iii, 
[4]),  without  prophets  (Amos) ;  looking  for  deliverance,  and 
finding  it  not.  Is.  lix,  [9]. 

The  calling  of  the  Gentiles  by  Jesus  Christ.  Is.  Iii,  [15] ;  Iv, 
[5] ;  Ix,  [4,  etc.] ;  Ps.  Ixxxi,  [11,  18,  etc.]. 

III. 

Figures. —  .  . .  Saviour,  Father,  Sacrificer,  Victim,  Suste- 
nance, King,  Sage,  Legislator,  Afflicted,  Poor,  destined  to  pro- 
duce a  people,  which  he  was  to  lead,  and  nourish  and  introduce 
into  the  earth  .... 

*§  Jesua  Christ,  offices} — He  was  to  form  to  himself  a  great 
people,  elect,  holy,  and  chosen ;  to  lead  them,  to  nourish  them. 

1  Thai  is,  the  mission  which  Jesus  Christ  came  to  fulfil  in  the  world. 


CHAPTEB  xvm.  315 

to  bring  them  into  a  place  of  rest  and  holiness ;  to  make 
them  holy  to  God  ;  to  make  them  the  temple  of  God,  to  recon- 
cile them  to  God,  to  save  them  from  the  wrath  of  God,  to  de- 
liver them  from  the  bondage  of  sin,  which  visibly  reigns  in 
man ;  to  give  laws  to  this  people,  to  engrave  these  laws  in 
their  hearts,  to  offer  himself  to  God  for  them,  to  sacrifice  him- 
self for  them,  to  be  a  victim  without  spot,  and  to  be  himself  the 
sacrificer :  he  was  to.  offer  himself,  his  body  and  his  blood,  and 
nevertheless  to  offer  bread  and  wine  to  God  .... 

T  . . .  That  he  was  to  come  as  a  deliverer,  who  should  bruise 
the  serpent's  head,  who  should  deliver  his  people  from  their 
sins,  ex  omnibus  iniquitatibus  ;  that  there  should  be  a  New 
Testament  which  would  be  eternal ;  that  there  should  be  a 
new  priesthood  after  the  order  of  Melchisedek ;  that  this  should 
be  eternal ;  that  the  CHRIST  should  be  glorious,  powerful, 
mighty,  and  yet  so  miserable  that  he  would  not  be  recognized ; 
that  he  would  not  be  esteemed  for  what  he  was  ;  that  he  would 
be  rejected ;  that  he  should  be  killed ;  that  his  people  who  de- 
nied him,  should  no  longer  be  his  people  ;  that  the  idolatrous 
would  receive  him,  and  would  have  recourse  to  him  ;  that  he 
would  abandon  Zion,  to  reign  in  the  centre  of  idolatry ;  that, 
nevertheless,  the  Jews  should  always  subsist ;  that  he  should 
spring  from  the  tribe  of  Judah,  and  when  it  had  no  longer  a 
king. 

IV. 

Perpetuity. — Let  us  consider  that,  from  the  commencement 
of  the  world,  the  expectation  or  the  adoration  of  the  Messiah 
has  subsisted  without  interruption ;  that  men  were  found  who 
affirmed  that  God  had  revealed  to  them  that  a  Redeemer  should 
be  born  who  would  save  his  people ;  that  then  Abraham  came 
to  say  that  he  had  had  a  revelation  that  he  would  descend  from 
him  by  a  son  that  would  be  born  to  him ;  that  Jacob  declared 
that,  of  his  twelve  children,  he  would  be  born  of  Judah ;  that 
then  Moses  and  the  prophets  came  to  declare  the  time  and  the 
manner  of  his  coming ;  that  they  declared  that  the  law  which 
they  possessed  was  only  in  expectation  of  that  of  the  Messiah ; 
that  until  he  came,  it  would  be  pcrpeHal,  but  that  the  other 


316  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

would  be  eternal ;  that  thus  their  law,  or  that  of  the  Messiah, 
of  which  it  was  the  promise,  would  always  exist  in  the  world 
that,  in  fact,  it  had  always  existed ;  that,  finally,  JESUS  CHRIST 
did  come,  in  conformity  with  all  the  circumstances  predicted. 
This  is  wonderful. 

^[  If  this  was  so  clearly  foretold  to  the  Jews,  why  did  they 
not  believe ;  or  why  were  they  not  exterminated,  for  resisting 
a  thing  which  was  so  clear  ? 

I  answer  :  first,  that  it  had  been  predicted,  both  that  they 
would  not  believe  a  thing  which  was  so  clear,  and  that  they 
would  not  be  exterminated.  And  nothing  is  more  glorious  for 
the  Messiah ;  for  it  was  not  sufficient  that  there  should  be 
prophecies ;  it  was  necessary  that  their  prophecies  might  be 
preserved  without  suspicion.  Now,  etc. 

V. 

The  prophets  mixed  particular  prophecies  with  those  of  the 
Messiah,  in  order  that  the  prophecies  of  the  Messiah  might  not 
be  without  proofs,  and  that  the  particular  prophecies  might 
not  be  without  fruit. 

^[  Nan  habemus  regem  nisi  Ccesarem. — Then  JESUS  CHRIST 
was  the  Messiah,  since  they  had  no  king  but  a  stranger,  and 
would  have  no  other. 

^  Prophecies. — The  seventy  weeks  of  Daniel  are  equivocal 
as  to  the  point  of  commencement,  on  account  of  the  terms  of 
prophecy ;  and  as  to  their  termination,  on  account  of  the  di- 
versities of  chronologists.  But  all  this  difference  is  not  more 
than  two  hundred  years. 

^[  The  prophecies  ought  to  be  unintelligible  to  the  impious 
(Dan.  xii,  [10] ;  Hosea  xiv,  [9]),  but  intelligible  to  those  who 
are  properly  instructed. 

...The  prophecies  that  represent  him  as  poor,  represent 
him  as  master  of  nations.  Is.  lii,  [14,  etc.],  liii;  Zach.  ix,  [0]. 

...The  prophecies  that  predict  the  time,  predict  him  only 
as  master  of  the  Gentiles,  and  as  suffering,  and  not  as  coming 
in  the  clouds  of  heaven,  nor  as  a  judge.  And  those  that  rep 
resent  him  as  judging  and  in  glory,  do  not  indicate  the  time. 


CHAPTER   XIX.  317 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

[PROOFS  or  JKSCS  CIIRIST,  DEDUCED  FROM  HIS  BIRTH  AND  BIS  DEATH.] 


THE  infinite  distance  between  body  and  mind  represents  tha 
Jifinitely  more  infinite  distance  between  mind  and  charity,  for 
it  is  supernatural. 

All  the  splendor  of  external  show  has  no  lustre  for  those 
who  are  engaged  in  intellectual  research.  The  greatness  of 
intellectual  men  is  imperceptible  to  kings,  to  the  rich,  to  cap- 
tains, to  all  those  carnally  great.  The  greatness  of  Wisdom, 
which  is  nowhere  but  in  God,  is  imperceptible  both  to  the 
carnal  and  to  the  intellectual.  These  are  three  orders,  differ- 
ing in  kind. 

Great  geniuses  have  their  empire,  their  renown,  their  great- 
ness, their  victory,  and  their  lustre,  and  have  no  need  of  mate- 
rial grandeurs,  with  which  they  have  no  relation.  They  are 
seen  not  with  the  eyes,  but  with  the  mind ;  that  is  enough. 
The  saints  have  their  empire,  their  renown,  their  victory,  their 
ustre,  and  have  no  need  of  material  or  intellectual  grandeurs, 
with  which  they  have  no  relation,  for  they  neither  add  to  them 
nor  take  from  them.  They  are  seen  of  God  and  angels,  and 
not  by  body  and  curious  intellect :  God  is  sufficient  for 
them. 

Archimedes,  without  material  splendor,  would  be  held  in 
the  same  veneration.  He  gained  no  battles  for  the  satisfaction 
of  the  carnal  eye,  but  he  furnished  all  minds  with  his  inventions. 
Oh  !  what  splendor  he  had  for  minds  !  JESUS  CHRIST,  with- 
out wealth,  and  without  any  outward  production  of  science,  is 
in  his  order  of  holiness.  He  gave  no  inventions,  he  did  not 
reign  ;  but  he  was  humble,  patient,  holy,  holy,  holy  to  God, 
errible  to  demons,  without  any.  sin.  Oh,  with  what  great 


318  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

pomp,  and  with  what  prodigious  magnificence  did  he  come 
to  the  eyes  of  the  heart  and  the  eyes  which  see  Wisdom ! 

It  would  have  been  useless  for  Archimedes  to  affect  the 
prince  in  his  books  of  geometry,  although  he  might  have  done 
this.  It  would  have  been  useless  for  our  Lord  JESUS  CHRIST 
in  order  to  appear  with  splendor  in  his  reign  of  holiness,  tc 
come  as  a  king :  but  with  what  a  splendor  of  his  own  order 
has  he  indeed  come ! 

It  is  very  ridiculous  to  be  scandalized  at  the  lowliness  ot 
JESUS  CHRIST,  as  if  this  lowliness  were  of  the  same  order  as 
the  greatness  which  'he  came  to  manifest.  Let  us  consider 
this  greatness  in  his  life,  in  his  passion,  in  his  obscurity,  in  his 
death,  in  the  election  of  his  own,  in  their  abandonment  of  him, 
in  his  secret  resurrection,  and  in  the  rest ;  we  shall  see  it  so 
great,  that  we  shall  have  no  cause  to  be  scandalized  at  a  low- 
liness that  is  not  there.  But  there  are  some  who  can  admire 
only  material  grandeurs,  as  if  there  were  no  intellectual  gran- 
deurs ;  and  others  who  admire  only  the  intellectual,  as  if  there 
were  none  infinitely  higher  in  Wisdom. 

All  bodies,  the  firmament,  the  stars,  the  earth  and  its  king- 
doms, are  not  worth  the  least  of  minds ;  for  it  knows  all  this, 
and  itself;  and  bodies  know  nothing.  All  bodies  together,  and 
all  minds  together,  and  all  their  productions,  are  not  worth  the 
least  emotion  of  charity ;  this  is  of  an  order  infinitely  more 
exalted. 

From  all  bodies  together  could  never  be  obtained  the  small- 
est thought ;  this  is  impossible,  and  of  a  different  order.  From 
all  bodies  and  minds  could  be  extracted  no  emotion  of  true 
charity :  this  is  impossible,  and  of  a  different  order,  the  super- 
natural.1 

II. 

. . .  JESUS  CHRIST  in  an  obscurity  (according  to  what  the 
world  calls  obscurity)  such,  that  historians,  writing  only  the 
important  things  of  States,  have  scarcely  perceived  him. 

»  "We  here  recognize  the  threefold  division  of  Dr.  Hickok's  marvellotu 
phi  loBOphy. — Ed. 


CHAPTER   XIX.  319 


IIL 

What  man  ever  had  more  renown !  The  whole  Jewish  peo- 
ple predict  him,  before  his  coming.  The  Gentile  people  adore 
him,  after  his  coming.  The  two  peoples,  the  Gentile  and  the 
Jewish,  regard  him  as  their  centre.  And  nevertheless  what 
man  enjoys  such  renown  less !  Of  thirty-three  years,  he  lives 
thirty  without  appearing.  During  three  years,  he  passes  for 
an  impostor ;  priests  and  princes  reject  him ;  his  friends  and 
his  kindred  despise  him.  In  fine,  he  dies  betrayed  by  one  of 
his  own,  denied  by  another,  and  abandoned  by  all. 

What  part  has  he,  then,  in  this  renown  ?  Never  has  a  man 
had  so  much  renown ;  never  has  a  man  had  more  ignominy. 
All  this  renown  has  served  only  us,  in  order  to  make  him  re- 
cognizable to  us ;  and  has  had  nothing  for  him. 


IV. 

Proofs  of  Jesus  Christ. — JESUS  CHRIST  has  said  great  things 
BO  simply,  that  it  seems  that  he  has  not  thought  of  them  ;  and 
so  precisely,  nevertheless,  that  we  see  clearly  what  he  thought 
of  them.  This  clearness,  joined  to  this  simplicity,  is.  admirable. 

•([  Who  taught  the  evangelists  the  qualities  of  a  perfectly 
heroic  soul,  that  they  should  paint  it  so  perfectly  in  JESUS 
CHRIST  ?  Why  do  they  make  him  so  weak  in  his  agony  ?  Do 
.hey  not  know  how  to  paint  a  constant  death  ?  Yes,  without 
doubt ;  for  the  same  St.  Luke  paints  that  of  St.  Stephen  as 
more  resolute  than  that  of  JESUS  CHRIST.  They  make  him, 
then,  capable  of  fear  before  the  necessity  of  death  is  come,  and 
.Uen  altogether  strong.  But  when  they  make  him  so  troubled, 
it  is  when  his  affliction  proceeds  from  himself ;  but  when  men 
afflict  him,  he  is  all  strength. 

^[  The  Church  has  had  as  much  trouble  to  show  that  JESUS 
CHRIST  was  man,  against  those  who  denied  it,  as  to  show  that 
ae  was  God ;  and  the  appearances  were  as  great. 

•[[  JESUS  CHRIST  is  a  God  whom  we  approach  without  pride, 
»nd  under  whom  we  humble  ourselves  without  despair. 


320  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

V. 

The  conversion  of  the  pagans  was  reserved  for  the  grace  o* 
the  Messiah  alone.  The  Jews  were  so  long  combating  them 
without  success  :  all  that  Solomon  and  the  prophets  said  of 
them  was  useless.  Sages  like  Plato  and  Socrates  were  unable 
to  inculcate  it. 

^[  The  Gospels  speak  of  the  virginity  of  the  Viigin  only  until 
the  birth  of  JESUS  CHRIST.  Every  thing  has  relation  to  JESUS 
CHRIST. 

^[  . . .  JESUS  CHRIST,  whom  both  the  Testaments  regard,  the 
Old  as  its  expectation,  the  New  as  its  exemplar,  both  as  their 
centre. 

^f  The  prophets  predicted,  and  were  not  predicted.  The 
saints  are  then  predicted,  but  do  not  predict.  JESUS  CHRIST 
is  predicted  and  predicts. 

*|  JESUS  CHRIST  for  all,  Moses  for  one  people. 

The  Jews  were  blessed  in  Abraham  :  "  I  will  bless  them 
that  bless  thee."  Gen.  xii,  [3].  But,  "  All  nations  are  blessed 
in  his  seed."  Gen.  xxii,  [18]. 

Lumen  ad  revelationem  gentium. 

Won  fecit  taliter  omni  nationi,  said  David,  in  speaking  of  the 
law.  But  in  speaking  of  JESUS  CHRIST,  it  is  necessary  to  say  : 
Fecit  taliter  omni  nationi. 

Parum  est  ut,  etc.  Isaiah  xlix,  [6].  So  it  is  for  JESUS 
CHRIST  to  be  universal.  Even  the  Church  offers  sacrifices  only 
for  the  faithful :  JESUS  CHRIST  has  offered  that  of  the  cross 
for  all. 


CHAPTEB  XX.  321 


C.HAPTEK  xx. 

[OF  THE  TRUTH  OF  THE  GOSPEL  HISTORY. — PROOFS  OF  JESDS  CHRIST  EBAWH 
FROM  HIS  MIRACLES. — DIFFERENCE  BETWEEN  THE  MESSIAH  AND  MA- 
HOMET.] 

I. 

THE  apostles  were  deceived,  or  deceivers.  Either  is  diffi- 
cult. For  it  is  not  possible  to  take  a  man  as  raised  from  the 
dead  .... 

While  JESUS  CHRIST  was  with  them,  he  could  sustain  them ; 
but  after  that,  if  he  did  not  appear  to  them,  who  caused  them 
to  act? 

^f  Proof  of  Jesus  Christ. — The  hypothesis  of  deceptive 
apostles  is  very  absurd.  Let  one  follow  it  throughout ;  let  one 
imagine  these  twelve  men,  assembled  after  the  death  of  JESUS 
CHRIST,  conspiring  together  to  say  that  he  was  raised  from  the 
dead  :  they  attack  thereby  all  powers.  The  heart  of  man  is 
strangely  inclined  to  levity,  to  change,  to  promises,  to  posses- 
sions. However  little  one  of  them  might  have  been  shaken  by 
these  attractions,  and — what  is  more — by  prisons,  tortures,  and 
death,  they  had  been  lost.  Let  one  follow  this  out. 

II. 

The  style  of  the  Gospel  is  admirable  in  so  many  ways,  and, 
among  others,  in  never  using  any  invective  against  the  execu- 
tioners and  enemies  of  JESUS  CHRIST.  For  there  is  none  in  the 
historians  against  Judas,  Pilate,  or  any  of  the  Jews. 

If  this  modesty  of  the  Gospel  historians  had  been  affected, 
as  well  as  many  other  traits  of  a  character  so  beautiful,  and  il 
they  had  affected  it  only  to  make  it  remarked  ;  if  they  had  not 
dared  to  remark  it  themselves,  they  would  not  have  failed  to 
procure  friends,  who  would  have  made  these  remarks  to  their 

tc  vantage.     But  as  they  have  acted  thus  without  affectation,. 

HO 


322  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

and  by  a  wholly  disinterested  impulse,  they  have  caused  it  tc 
be  remarked  by  no  one.  And  I  believe  that  several  of  these 
things  have  not  hitherto  been  remarked  ;  and  this  evinces  the 
coldness  with  which  the  thing  has  been  done. 

HL 

JESUS  CHRIST  wrought  miracles,  and  then  the  apostles,  ana 
the  first  saints  in  great  number ;  because,  the  prophecies  not 
yet  being  fulfilled,  and  their  fulfilment  taking  place  by  them, 
nothing  testified  it  but  miracles.  It  was  predicted  that  the 
Messiah  would  convert  the  nations.  How  could  this  prophecy 
be  fulfilled  without  the  conversion  of  the  nations  ?  And  how 
could  the  nations  be  converted  to  the  Messiah,  without  seeing 
this  final  effort  of  prophecies  that  prove  him  ?  All  was  not 
fulfilled,  then,  before  his  death,  resurrection,  and  conversion  of 
the  nations ;  and  thus  miracles  were  necessary  during  the  whole 
of  this  time.  Now  no  more  are  required  against  the  Jews,  for 
the  prophecies  fulfilled  are  a  standing  miracle  .... 

IV. 

It  is  an  astonishing  thing,  and  one  worthy  of  peculiar  atten- 
tion, to  see  the  Jewish  people  subsisting  so  many  years,  and  to 
see  them  always  so  miserable  :  it  being  necessary  for  the  proof 
of  JESUS  CHRIST,  both  that  they  should  subsist  to  prove  him, 
and  that  they  should  be  miserable,  since  they  crucified  him  : 
and,  although  to  be  miserable  and  to  subsist  may  be  contradic- 
tory, they  nevertheless  perpetually  subsist,  in  spite  of  their 
misery. 

^[  "When  Nebuchadnezzar  led  the  people  captive,  lest  it 
might  be  believed  that  the  sceptre  had  departed  from  Judah, 
it  was  said  to  them  beforehand  that  they  should  be  there  but 
a  short  time,  and  that  they  should  be  re-established.  They 
were  still  consoled  by  their  prophets,  their  kings  continued, 
But  the  second  destruction  is  without  promise  of  re-establish 
ment,  without  prophets,  without  kings,  without  consolation, 
without  hope,  because  the  sceptre  has  departed  forever. 


CHAPTER   XX.  323 

^[  Proofs  of  Jesus  Christ. — It  is  not  to  have  been  captive  to 
flave  been  so  with  the  assurance  of  being  delivered  in  seventy 
years.  But  now  they  are  so  without  any  hope. 

God  promised  them  that  although  he  should  scatter  them  to 
the  ends  of  the  world,  nevertheless,  if  they  were  faithful  to  his 
law,  he  would  bring  them  together  again.  They  are  very 
faithful  to  it,  and  remain  oppressed.  . . . 

V. 

If  the  Jews  had  all  been  converted  by  JESUS  CHRIST,  we 
should  no  longer  have  any  but  suspected  witnesses ;  and  if  they 
had  been  exterminated,  we  should  have  none  at  all. 

^[  The  Jews  reject  him,  but  not  all  of  them :  the  holy  re- 
ceive him,  and  not  the  carnal.  And  so  far  is  this  from  being 
against  his  glory,  that  it  is  the  last  feature  of  its  completion. 
As  the  reason  they  have  of  it,  and  the  only  one  that  is  found 
in  all  their  writings,  in  the  Talmud  and  the  Rabbins,  is  only 
because  JESUS  CHRIST  did  not  overcome  the  nations  with  an 
armed  hand,  gladium  tuum,  potentissime.  Have  they  nothing 
but  this  to  say  ?  JESUS  CHRIST  has  been  killed,  they  say ;  he 
has  succumbed ;  he  has  not  overcome  the  pagans  by  his  force ; 
he  has  not  given  us  their  spoils ;  he  gives  no  riches.  Have 
they  nothing  but  this  to  say  ?  It  is  in  this  that  he  is  to  me 
worthy  of  love.  I  would  not  have  him  whom  they  imagine. 
It  is  evident  that  it  is  only  his  life  that  has  hindered  them  from 
receiving  him ;  and  by  this  refusal,  they  are  irreproachable 
witnesses,  and,  what  is  more,  they  fulfil  thereby  the  prophecies. 

VI. 

How  beautiful  it  is  to  see,  with  the  eyes  of  faith,  Darius  and 
Cyrus,  Alexander,  the  Romans,  Pompey,  and  Herod,  acting 
without  knowing  it,  for  the  glory  of  the  Gospel ! 

1  When  Pascal  interprets  the  prophexs,  and  breaks  the  seals  of  the  Old 
Testament,  when  he  explains  the  mission  of  the  Apostles  among  the  Gen- 
tiles, and  the  marvellous  economy  of  the  designs  of  Qod,  he  conspicuously 


324  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 


VII. 

The  pagan  religion  is  without  foundation.1 

The  Mahometan  religion  is  founded  on  the  Koran  and 
Mahomet.  But  was  this  prophet,  who  should  have  been  the 
final  expectation  of  the  world,  predicted  ?  What  sign  lias  he, 
that  any  man  who  would  be  called  a  prophet  has  not  also  I 
What  miracles  does  he  claim  to  have  performed  ?  What 
mystery  has  he  taught,  according  to  his  own  tradition  even  ? 
What  morality  and  what  felicity  ? 

The  Jewish  religion  must  be  differently  regarded  in  the  tra- 
dition of  the  holy  books,  and  in  the  tradition  of  the  people.8 
Its  morality  and  felicity  are  ridiculous  in  the  tradition  of  thf 
people,  but  admirable,  in  that  of  their  saints.  The  foundatioi 
of  it  is  admirable  ;  it  is  the  oldest  book  in  the  world,  and  tbt, 
most  authentic ;  and  while  Mahomet,  in  order  to  cause  the 
subsistence  of  his,  has  prohibited  its  reading,  Moses,  to  make 
his  subsist,  has  commanded  everybody  to  read  it. 

Our  religion  is  so  divine,  that  another  divine  religion  is  only 
its  foundation. 

^[  Mahomet,  without  authority.8  His  reasons  should  then 
be  very  strong,  having  only  their  own  force.  What  does  he 
pay  then  ?  That  it  is  necessary  to  believe. 


precedes  Bossuet,  the  Bossuet  of  the  Universal  History;  he  opens  many 
vistas  which  the  other  will  survey  and  fill  up.  . .  .  Bossuet  had  read 
the  Thoughts,  he  had  met  with  the  passage :  How  beautiful  it  is  to  see,  etc. 
It  is  a  complete  programme,  that  his  impetuous  genius  must  have  instaMly 
embraced,  as  the  eagle  eye  of  the  great  Condd  surveyed  the  battle-fiela. — 
Salnt-Beuve. 

1  VAB.  OF  MS.    Pascal  had  first  written :  "  Without  foundation  at  pres- 
ent.   It  is  said  that  it  formerly  had  a  foundation,  by  the  oracles  that  spoke. 
But  what  books  give  us  assurance  of  this  ?    Are  they  so  worthy  of  faith  by 
the  virtue  of  their  authors  ?    Have  they  been  preserved  with  so  much  cara 
that  one  may  be  certain  they  are  not  corrupt?"  (erased). 

2  The  following  note  is   in  the  MS. :    "  And  every  religion  is  the 
same,  for  Christianity  is  very  different  in  the  holy  books  and  in  th« 
casuists." 

1  That  i.s,  Mahomet  has  no  authority  to  ii  ivoke  in  supr  ort  of  his  pr« 
tended  au.ssioii. 


CHAPTER   XX.  325 


VIII. 

Two  persons  tell  each  a  foolish  story, — one  a  story 
a  double  meaning,  understood  by  the  initiated, — the  other  a 
story  simply  foolish ;  if  any  one,  not  in  the  secret,  were  to 
hear  the  two  discoursing  in  this  sort,  he  would  form  the  same 
judgment  of  both.  But  if,  subsequently,  in  their  other  dis- 
courses, one  said  angelic  things,  and  the  other,  things  always 
flat  and  common-place,  he  would  judge  that  one  spoke  with 
mystery,  and  the  other  not:  one  having  abundantly  shown 
that  he  is  incapable  of  such  stupidities,  and  capable  of  being 
mysterious;  and  the  other  that  he  is  incapable  of  mystery, 
and  capable  of  stupidities. 

IX. 

It  is  not  by  what  is  obscure  in  Mahomet,  and  what  may 
be  taken  in  a  mysterious  sense,  that  I  mean  he  should  be 
judged,  but  by  what  is  clear  in  him,  by  his  paradise,  and  the 
rest.  It  is  in  this  that  he  is  ridiculous.  And  therefore  it  is 
not  proper  to  take  his  obscurities  for  mysteries,  seeing  that  his 
lucidities  are  ridiculous.  It  is  not  the  same  with  Scripture.  I 
mean  that  there  are  obscurities  as  strange  as  those  of  Mahomet ; 
but  there  are  admirable  lucidities,  and  manifest  prophecies  ful- 
filled. The  cases  are  not  parallel,  then.  Things  must  not  be 
confounded  and  made  equal,  that  are  similar  only  by  obscurity, 
and  not  by  the  clearness  that  entitles  obscurities  to  reverence. 

^[  Against  Mahomet. — The  Koran  is  no  more  from  Ma- 
homet, than  the  Gospel  from  St.  Matthew,  for  it  is  cited  by 
several  authors  from  age  to  age.  Even  enemies,  Celsus  and 
Porphyry,  have  never  disavowed  it. 

The  Koran  says  that  St.  Matthew  was  a  good  man.  There- 
fore, Mahomet  was  a  false  prophet,  either  in  calling  good  peo- 
ple bad,  or  in  not  remaining  in  accordance  with  what  they 
have  said  of  JESUS  CHRIST. 

X. 

Every  man  can  do  what  Mahomet  did ;  for  he  wrought  no 


326  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

miracles,  he  was  not  foretold.    No  man  can  do  what  JESUS 
CHRIST  did. 

^[  Difference  between  Jesus  Christ  and  Mahomet. — Mahomet, 
not  foretold ;  JESUS  CHRIST,  foretold.  Mahomet,  killing ;  JE- 
BUS  CHRIST,  causing  his  own  to  be  slain.  Mahomet,  prohibit- 
ing to  read ;  the  apostles,  commanding  to  read.  Finally,  this 
is  so  opposite — that,  if  Mahomet  took  the  way  of  succeeding 
according  to  human  calculation,  JESUS  CHRIST  took  that  of 
perishing  according  to  human  calculation.  And  instead  of 
concluding  that,  since  Mahomet  succeeded,  JESUS  CHRIST  was 
surely  able  to  succeed,  it  must  be  said  that,  since  Mahomet 
succeeded,  JESUS  CHRIST  should  have  failed.1 

i  Jerome  Savonarola,  in  a  treatise  entitled,  The  Triumph  of  the  Orose, 
institutes,  like  Pascal,  a  comparison  between  Jesus  Christ  and  Mahomet. 
This  point  of  relation,  which  has  not  yet  been  pointed  out,  is  not  the  only 
one  that  exists  between  the  two  authors.  The  Triumph  of  the  Gross,  pub- 
lished in  1497,  is,  like  the  Thoughts,  a  work  in  defence  of  Christianity,  and 
as  it  has  often  been  reprinted,  it  does  not  appear  impossible  that  Pascal 
might  have  had  some  knowledge  of  it.  See  the  luminous  analysis  of  M. 
Perrons  in  Jerome  SavonaroU,  sa  Vie,  te»  Ecrits,  etc.  Paris,  1858,  8?', 
L  ii,  p.  810  et  *?. 


CHAPTER  XXI.  327 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

[TIIAT  GOD  NEITHER  CONCEALS  NOR  REVEALS  HIMSELF  ENTIRELY  ;  THAT  IHI 
MESSIAH  IS  COGNIZABLE  TO  THE  GOOD,  AND  INCOGNIZABLE  TO  THE  WICKED, 
AND  THAT  IT  IS  NECESSARY  TO  RECOGNIZE  THE  TRUTH  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN 
RJSLIGION  EVEN  IN  THE  OBSCURITY  OF  CERTAIN  TRUTHS.] 

I. 

GOD  has  desired  to  redeem  mankind,  and  to  open  salvation 
to  those  who  should  seek  it.  But  men  render  themselves  so 
unworthy  of  it,  that  it  is  just  that  God  should  refuse  to  some, 
because  of  their  hardness  of  heart,  what  he  accords  to  others 
by  a  mercy  to  which  they  have  no  claim.  If  he  hud  chosen 
to  overcome  the  obstinacy  of  the  most  hardened,  he  could  have 
done  so,  in  revealing  himself  so  manifestly  to  them,  that  they 
could  not  have  doubted  of  the  truth  of  his  essence ;  as  he  shall 
so  appear  on  the  last  day,  in  the  lightnings  of  heaven,  and 
with  convulsions  of  nature,  that  the  dead  shall  arise  and  the 
blindest  shall  see  him. 

It  is  not  in  this  manner  that  he  wished  to  appear  in  his 
advent  of  mildness;  because  so  many  men  rendering  them- 
selves unworthy  of  his  clemency,  he  determined  to  leave  them 
in  destitution  of  the  blessing  which  they  did  not  desire.  It 
was  not  just  then  that  he  should  appear  in  a  manner  manifestly 
divine,  and  absolutely  capable  of  convincing  all  men ;  but  it 
was  not  just  either  that  he  should  come  in  a  manner  so  hidden 
that  he  could  not  be  recognized  by  those  who  should  seek  him 
sincerely.  He  wished  to  render  himself  perfectly  recognizable 
to  those ;  and  thus,  willing  to  be  revealed  to  those  who  seek 
him  with  their  whole  heart,  and  hidden  from  those  who  shun 
him  with  all  their  heart,  he  so  regulates  the  means  of  knowing 
aim,  that  he  has  given  signs  of  himself  which  are  visible  to 
.hose  who  seek  him  and  obscure  to  those  who  seek  him  not 


328  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

There  is  light  enough  for  those  who  desire  only  to  see  him, 
and  obscurity  enough  for  those  who  have  a  contrary  disposi- 
tion. There  is  sufficient  light  to  enlighten  the  elect,  and  suffi- 
cient obscurity  to  humiliate  them.  There  is  sufficient  obscurity 
to  blind  the  reprobate,  and  sufficient  light  to  condemn  them, 
and  render  them  inexcusable. 

H. 

If  the  world  subsisted  for  the  purpose  of  instructing  man  it 
regard  to  God,  his  divinity  would  shine  forth  from  every  part 
of  it  in  an  incontestable  manner ;  but,  as  it  subsists  only  by 
JESUS  CHRIST  and  for  JESUS  CHRIST,  and  to  instruct  men  in 
regard  to  their  corruption  and  their  redemption,  every  thing  . 
in  it  abounds  with  the  proofs  of  these  two  truths.  What  ap- 
pears in  it  indicates  neither  a  total  exclusion,  nor  a  manifest 
presence  of  divinity,  but  the  presence  of  a  God  who  conceals 
himself:  every  thing  bears  this  character. 

If  nothing  had  ever  appeared  of  God,  this  eternal  privation 
would  be  equivocal,  and  might  equally  relate  to  the  absence 
of  all  divinity,  or  to  the  unworthiness  of  man  to  know  him. 
But  since  he  has  appeared  sometimes,  and  not  always,  this 
removes  the  equivocation.  If  he  has  appeared  once,  he  is 
always ;  and  thus  we  cannot  conclude,  but  that  there  is  a  God, 
and  that  men  are  unworthy  of  him. 


m. 

God  wishes  to  dispose  the  will  rather  than  the  mind.  Per- 
fect clearness  would  serve  the  mind  and  injure  the  will.  To 
abase  the  proud. 

^[  If  there  were  no  obscurity,  man  would  not  feel  his  cor- 
ruption ;  if  there  were  no  light,  man  would  not  hope  for  a 
remedy.  Thus,  it  is  not  only  just,  but  useful  for  us,  that  God 
hould  be  concealed  in  part  and  revealed  in  part,  since  it  is 
equally  dangerous  for  man  to  know  God  without  knowing  hii 
•nisery,  and  to  know  his  misery  without  knowing  God. 


CHAPTER   XXI.  329 

IV. 

...  It  is  true,  then,  that  all  things  inform  man  of  his  con- 
dition, but  it  is  necessary  to  understand  them :  for  it  is  not 
true  that  all  things  reveal  God,  and  it  is  not  true  that  all 
things  conceal  God.  But  it  is  altogether  true  that  he  conceals 
himself  from  those  who  tempt  him,  and  that  he  reveals  him- 
self to  those  who  seek  him,  because  men  are  altogether  unwor- 
Ih y  of  God,  and  capable  of  God ;  unworthy  by  their  corruption, 
capable  by  their  original  nature. 

V. 

There  is  nothing  on  earth  that  does  not  show,  either  the 
misery  of  man  or  the  mercy  of  God ;  either  the  impotence  of 
man  without  God,  or  the  power  of  man  with  God. 

T  .  .  .  Thus,  the  whole  universe  teaches  man,  either  that  he 
is  corrupt,  or  that  he  is  redeemed ;  every  thing  teaches  him 
his  greatness  or  his  misery.  The  abandonment  of  God  ap- 
peared in  the  pagans ;  the  protection  of  God  appeared  in  the 
Jews. 

VI. 

All  things  work  for  good  to  the  elect,  even  the  obscurities 
of  Scripture ;  for  they  honor  these  obscurities,  on  account  of 
the  divine  light  of  Scripture :  and  all  things  work  for  ill  to 
others,  even  this  light ;  for  they  blaspheme  it,  on  account  of 
the  obscurities  which  they  do  not  understand. 

VII. 

If  JESUS  CHRIST  had  come  only  to  sanctify,  all  Scripture  ar.d 
all  things  would  tend  to  this  object,  and  it  would  be  very  easy 
o  convince  the  infidels.  If  JES'US  CHRIST  had  come  only  to 
blind,  all  his  conduct  would  be  confused,  and  we  should  have 
no  means  of  convincing  the  infidels.  But  as  he  came  in  sanc- 
iijicationem  et  in  scandalum,  as  Isaiah  says,  we  cannot  convince 
the  infidels,  and  they  carnot  convince  us ;  bu*  by  this  even,  we 
convince  them,  since  we  say  that  there  is  no  conviction  in  his 
whole  conduct  throughout 


330  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

^j"  JESUS  CHRIST  came  to  blind  those  who  see  clearly,  and  to 
give  sight  to  the  blind ;  to  heal  the  sick,  and  let  the  whole 
perish ;  to  call  sinners  to  repentance  and  justification,  and  to 
leave  the  just  in  their  sins ;  to  fill  the  poor,  and  to  leave  the 
rich  empty. 

^[  What  say  the  prophets  of  JESUS  CHRIST  ?  That  ho  shall 
manifestly  be  God  ?  No :  but  that  he  is  a  God  veritably  con- 
cealed; that  he  shall  be  unrecognized;  that  men  shall  not 
think  that  this  is  he ;  that  he  shall  be  a  stone  of  stumbling,  on 
which  many  shall  fall,  etc.  Let  us  then  be  reproached  no 
more  for  the  want  of  light,  since  we  profess  to  have  it. 

T . . .  But,  they  say,  there  are  obscurities. — And  without 
this  men  would  not  be  offended  at  JESUS  CHRIST,  and  it  is  one 
of  the  formal  designs  of  the  prophets :  Excceca '  .  .  .  . 

^[  God,  in  order  to  make  the  Messiah  cognizable  to  the 
good  and  incognizable  to  the  wicked,  caused  him  to  be  pre- 
dicted in  this  way.  If  the  manner  of  the  Messiah  had  been 
clearly  predicted,  there  would  have  been  no  obscurity,  even 
for  the  wicked.  If  the  time  had  been  obscurely  predicted, 
there  would  have  been  obscurity,  even  for  the  good ;  for  the 
goodness  of  their  hearts  would  not  have  made  them  under- 
stand that  the  mem  close,*  for  example,  means  six  hundred 
years.  But  the  time  has  been  predicted  clearly,  and  the  man- 
ner figuratively. 

In  this  way,  the  wicked,  taking  the  promised  goods  for  ma- 
terial goods,  went  astray,  notwithstanding  the  time  was  clearly 
predicted,  and  the  good  did  not  go  astray :  for  the  under- 
standing of  the  promised  goods  depends  on  the  heart,  which 
calls  that  good  which  it  loves ;  but  the  understanding  of  the 
promised  time  does  not  depend  on  the  heart ;  and  thus  the 
clear  prediction  of  the  time,  'and  the  obscure  prediction  of  the 
Ijoods,  deceive  only  the  wicked. 

••  Excasca  cor  populi  hujus.    Isaiah  vi,  10. 

*  The  tnero,  a  letter  of  the  Hebrew  alphabet.  Hebrew  letters,  like  th* 
Greek,  are  numerals  as  well  as  letters.  The  mem  open  is  equivalent  to  40  , 
the  mem  close  is  equivalent  to  600  ;  which  h^s  made  the  Rabbiaa  say  thtf 
Christ  wonld  come  at  the  end  of  six  hundred  years. 


CHAPTER   XXI.  33 

VIII. 

How  was  it  necessary  that  he  should  be  the  Messiah,  since 
by  him  the  sceptre  was  to  be  eternally  in  Judah,  and  that  at 
his  coming  the  sceptre  was  to  be  taken  away  from  Judah  ? 

. . .  Nothing  could  be  more  effectual  to  bring  it  to  pass  that 
seeing,  they  might  not  see  ;  and  that  hearing,  they  might  not 
understand. 

IX. 

The  genealogy  of  JESUS  CHRIST  in  the  Old  Testament  is 
mixed  with  so  many  others  which  are  useless,  that  it  cannot 
be  discerned.  If  Moses  had  kept  only  a  register  of  the  an- 
cestors of  JESUS  CHRIST,  this  would  have  been  too  obvious. 
If  he  had  not  indicated  that  of  JESUS  CHRIST,  it  would  not 
have  been  obvious  enough.  But,  after  all,  whoever  looks 
closely,  will  see  that  of  JESUS  CHRIST  clearly  traced  through 
Tamar,  Ruth,  etc. 

X. 

. . .  Recognize  then  the  truth  of  our  religion  in  its  very  ob- 
scurity, in  the  little  light  that  we  have  of  it,  in  the  indiffer- 
ence that  we  feel  with  respect  to  knowing  it. 

^[  JESUS  CHRIST  does  not  say  that  he  is  not  of  Nazareth, 
nor  that  he  is  not  the  son  of  Joseph,  in  order  to  leave  the 
wicked  in  blindness. 

XI. 

As  JESUS  CHRIST  remained  unknown  among  men,  so  his 
truth  remains  among  common  opinions,  without  difference  as 
to  exterior :  thus  the  Eucharist  among  common  bread. 

^f  If  the  mercy  of  God  is  so  great  that  ;t  instructs  us  unto 
salvation,  even  when  he  conceals  himself,  what  light  should  we 
jot  expect  from  him  when  he  discovers  himself? 

^[  We  know  nothing  of  the  works  of  God,  if  we  ao  not  take 
it  as  a  principle  that  he  has  wished  to  blind  some  and  enlighfc 
3U  others. 


332  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

[THAT  MAN  CAS  KNOW  GOD  AND  KNOW  HIMSELF  ONLY  THROUGH  JESUS 
CHRIST,  AND  THAT  OUT  OF  JESUS  CHRIST,  MEDIATOR  AND  RESTORER, 
TI1ERK  18  NOTHING  BUT  SIN,  MISERY,  ERROR,  DARKNESS,  DEATH,  DB- 
SPA  IK. THE  MYSTERY  OF  JESUS.] 


FIRST  part :  Misery  of  man  without  God. 

Second  part :  Felicity  of  man  with  God. 

Otherwise,  First  part :  That  nature  is  corrupt.  By  nature 
even. 

Second  part :  That  there  is  a  restorer.     By  Scripture. 

^[  Preface  of  the  second  part  :  To  speak  of  those  who  have 
treated  of  this  matter. 

I  wonder  at  the  boldness  with  which  these  persons  under- 
take to  speak  of  God,  in  addressing  their  discourses  to  the  im- 
pious. Their  first  chapter  is  to  prove  the  Divinity  by  the 
works  of  nature. 

I  should  not  be  astonished  at  their  undertaking,  if  they  ad- 
dressed their  discourses  to  the  faithful,  for  it  is  certain  that 
those  who  have  a  lively  faith  in  their  hearts  incontinently  see 
that  all  that  is,  is  nothing  else  than  the  work  of  God  whom 
they  adore.  But  as  for  those  in  whom  this  light  is  extin- 
guished, and  in  whom  it  is  designed  to  rekindle  it,  these  persons 
destitute  of  faith  and  grace,  who,  seeking  with  all  their  light 
every  thing  they  see  in  nature  that  may  lead  them  to  this 
knowledge,  find  only  obscurity  and  darkness ;  to  say  to  them 
that  they  have  only  to  observe  the  least  of  the  things  that  sur- 
round them,  and  they  will  see  God  without  veil,  and  to  givr 
thorn,  as  the  whole  proof  of  this  great  and  important  subject, 
the  course  of  the  moon  and  planets,  and  to  pretend  to  have 
completed  this  proof  with  such  a  discussion,  is  to  give  them 
grounds  for  believing  that  the  proofs  of  our  religion  are  very 


CHAPTER   XXH.  333 

weak,  and  I  see  by  reason  and  experience  that  nothing  is  bet- 
ter calculated  to  produce  in  them  contempt  of  it. 

It  is  not  in  this  wise  that  Scripture,  which  understands  bet- 
ter the  things  that  are  God's,  speaks  of  it.  It  says,  on  the 
contrary,  that  God  is  a  God  concealed ;  and  that,  since  the 
corruption  of  nature,  he  has  left  them  in  a  blindness  from 
which  they  can  escape  only  through  JESUS  CHRIST,  except  by 
whom  any  communication  with  God  is  impossible  :  Nemo  novit 
Putrem,  nisi  Filius,  et  cui  valuer  it  Filius  revelare.1 

This  is  what  Scripture  indicates  to  us,  when  it  says,  in  so 
many  passages,  that  those  who  seek  God  find  him.  It  is  not 
said  of  this  light  that  it  is  clear  as  noon-day.  It  is  not  said 
that  those  who  seek  light  at  noon-day,  or  water  in  the  sea, 
shall  find  it ;  and  thus  it  is  very  certain  that  the  evidence  of 
God  is  not  such  in  nature.  Scripture  also  says  to  us  elsewhere  : 
Vere  tu  es  Deus  absconditus? 

^[  The  God  of  Christians  does  not  consist  in  a  God  simply 
author  of  geometric  truths  and  of  the  order  of  the  elements ; 
this  is  the  belief  of  pagans  and  Epicureans.  He  does  not  con- 
sist simply  in  a  God  who  watches  providentially  over  the  lives 
and  goods  of  men,  in  order  to  give  a  happy  course  of  years  to 
those  who  worship  him  ;  this  is  the  belief  of  the  Jews.  But 
the  God  of  Abraham,  the  God  of  Isaac,  the  God  of  Jacob,  the 
God  of  Christians,  is  a  God  of  love  and  consolation  :  he  is  a 
God  who  fills  the  soul  and  the  heart  that  he  possesses :  he  is  a 
God  who  makes  them  feel  within  them  their  misery,  and  his 
infinite  mercy ;  who  unites  himself  to  their  inmost  soul ;  who 
fills  it  with  humility,  joy,  confidence,  love;  who  renders  them 
incapable  of  any  end  but  him. 

^[  The  God  of  Christians  is  a  God  that  makes  the  soul  feel 
that-  he  is  its  only  good ;  that  its  only  repose  is  in  him,  and 
that  it  shall  have  no  joy  but  in  loving  him ;  and  who  makes  it 
at  the  same  time  abhor  the  obstacles  that  restrain  it,  and  hin- 
der it  from  loving  God  with  all  its  strength.  Self-love  and 


1  No  man  knoweth  tie  Father,  but  the  Son,  and  he  tc  whom  the  Son 
will  reveal  him.  »  Truly  thou  art  »  Go  J,  that  hideth  himself. 


334:  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

concupiscence,  that  arrest  it,  are  to  it  insupportable.  This 
God  makes  the  soul  feel  that  it  has  in  itself  this  destroying 
root  of  self-love,  and  that  he  alone  can  heal  it. 

^[  The  knowledge  of  God  without  that  of  our  misery  pro- 
duces pride.  The  knowledge  of  our  misery  without  that  01 
God  gives  despair.  The  knowledge  of  JESUS  CHRIST  is  inter- 
mediate, because  therein  we  find  God  and  our  misery. 

*j[  All  those  who  seek  God,  except  through  JESUS  CHRIST, 
and  stop  in  nature,  either  find  no  light  that  satisfies  them,  or 
they  finally  form  to  themselves  a  means  of  knowing  God  and 
serving  him  without  a  mediator ;  and  thereby  they  fall,  either 
into  atheism,  or  into  deism,  which  are  two  things  almost 
equally  abhorred  by  the  Christian  religion. 

^[  God  through  Jesus  Christ. — We  know  God  only  through 
JESUS  CHRIST.  Without  this  mediator,  is  taken  away  all  com- 
munication with  God ;  through  JESUS  CHRIST  we  know  God. 
All  those  who  have  pretended  to  know  God,  and  to  prove  him 
without  JESUS  CHRIST,  have  had  only  impotent  proofs.  But, 
to  prove  JESUS  CHRIST,  we  have  the  prophecies,  which  are 
good  and  valid  proofs.  And  these  prophecies,  being  fulfilled, 
and  truly  proved  by  the  event,  indicate  the  certainty  of  these 
truths,  and  therefore  the  proof  of  the  divinity  of  JESUS  CHRIST. 
In  him  and  by  him,  then,  we  know  God.  Otherwise  and  with- 
out Scripture,  without  original  sin,  without  a  necessary  media- 
tor, promised  and  come,  we  cannot  absolutely  prove  God,  nor 
teach  a  good  doctrine  and  sound  morals.  But  by  JESUS  CHRIST 
and  in  JESUS  CHRIST,  we  prove  God,  and  teach  doctrine  and 
morals.  JESUS  CHRIST  is,  then,  the  true  God  of  men. 

But  we  know,  at  the  same  time,  our  misery,  for  this  God  is 
nothing  else  than  the  repairer  of  our  misery.  Thus  we  can 
properly  know  God,  only  in  knowing  our  iniquities. 

Thoso  too,  who  have  known  God  without  knowing  their 
misery,  have  not  glorified  him,  but  have  glorified  themselves, 
Quia  non  cognovit  per  sapientiam,  placuit  Deo  per  stultitiam 
prcedicationis  salvos  facere. 

^[  Not  only  do  we  know  God  only  through  JESUS  CHRIST 
but  we  know  ourselves  only  through  JESUS  CHRIST.  We  know 


CHAPTER    XXII.  335 

life,  death,  only  through  JESUS  CHRIST.  Except  by  JESUS 
CHRIST  we  know  not  what  our  life  is,  what  our  death  is,  what 
God  is,  what  we  are  ourselves. 

Thus,  without  Scripture,  which  has  only  JESUS  CHRIST  for 
its  object,  we  know  nothing,  and  we  see  only  obscurity  and 
confusion  in  the  nature  of  God,  and  in  nature  herself. 

^[  Without  JESUS  CHRIST,  man  must  be  in  sin  and  misery ; 
with  JESUS  CHRIST,  man  is  exempt  from  sin  and  misery.  In 
him  is  all  our  virtue  and  all  our  felicity.  Out  of  him,  there  is 
nothing  but  sin,  misery,  error,  darkness,  death,  despair. 

^[  Without  JESUS  CHRIST,  the  world  would  not  subsist,  for 
it  would  be  necessary  either  that  it  should  be  destroyed,  or 
should  be  like  a  hell. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  JESUS  CHRIST.* 

I. 

JESUS  suffers  in  his  passion  the  torments  inflicted  upon  him 
by  men ;  but  in  his  agony  he  suffers  the  torments  that  he 
gives  himself:  turbavit  semetipsum.  It  is  a  punishment  from 
a  hand  not  human,  but  omnipotent,  and  it  is  necessary  to  be 
omnipotent,  in  order  to  endure  it. 

JESUS  seeks  some  consolation,  at  least  in  his  three  most 
cherished  friends,  and  they  sleep.  He  entreats  them  to  abide 
a  little  while  with  him,  and  they  leave  him  with  an  entire 
negligence,  having  so  little  compassion  that  it  could  not  even 
hinder  them  from  sleeping  one  moment.  Thus  JESUS  was  left 
alone  to  the  wrath  of  God. 

JESUS  is  alone  in  the  earth,  that  not  only  feels  and  shares  his 
pain,  but  knows  it :  heaven  and  it  are  alone  in  this  knowledge 

JESUS  is  in  a  garden,  not  of  delights,  like  the  first  Adam 
where  he  ruins  himself  and  the  whole  human  race,  but  in  one 

1  This  fragment  was  first  published  by  M.  Faugdre.  It  is  found  at  p.  87 
of  the  autograph  MS.  We  have  from  Jacqueline  Pascal  a  meditation  of 
the  same  kind,  entitled  The  Mytery  of  the  Death  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
This  piece  was  published  by  M.  Cousin,  Jacqueline  Pascal^  p.  122  tt  seq. ; 
ind  by  M.  Faugere,  Lettrts,  Opuscules,  p.  157  et  seq. 


336  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

of  punishment,  where  he  saves  himself,  and  the  ^hole  human 
race. 

He  suffers  this  pain  and  abandonment  amid  the  horrors  of 
night 

I  believe  Jesus  never  complained  but  this  once ;  but  then 
he  complains  as  if  he  could  no  longer  contain  his  excessive 
rief :  My  soul  is  exceedingly  sorrowful,  even  unto  death  ! 

JESUS  seeks  companionship  and  consolation  on  the  part  of 
men.  This  is  the  only  time  in  his  whole  life,  it  seems  to  me. 
But  he  does  not  receive  it,  for  his  disciples  sleep. 

JESUS  will  be  in  agony,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world  : 
during  this  time  there  must  be  no  sleep. 

JESUS,  in  the  midst  of  this  universal  abandonment,  even  by 
his  friends  chosen  to  watch  with  him,  finding  them  sleeping,  is 
grieved  on  account  of  the  peril  to  which  they  expose,  not  him, 
but  themselves  ;  and  he  warns  them  with  respect  to  their  own 
safety  and  good  with  a  cordial  tenderness  for  them  during  their 
ingratitude ;  and  reminds  them  that  the  spirit  is  willing,  but 
the  flesh  is  weak. 

JESUS,  finding  them  still  sleeping,  restrained  neither  by  con- 
sideration for  him  nor  for  themselves,  has  the  goodness  not  to 
wake  them,  and  to  leave  them  in  their  slumber. 

JESUS  prays  in  uncertainty  of  the  Father's  will,  and  fears 
death :  but  having  ascertained  the  Father's  will,  he  hastens  to 

7  O  ' 

offer  himself  to  death  :  JEamus.     Processit.     (Joannes.) 

JESUS  has  prayed  men,  and  has  not  been  heard. 

JESUS,  while  his  disciples  were  sleeping,  wrought  their  sal- 
vation. He  did  the  same  for  each  of  the  justified  while  they 
were  sleeping,  both  in  nothingness  before  their  birth,  and  JD 
eins  since  their  birth. 

He  prays  only  once  that  the  cup  may  pass  from  him,  and  then 
with  submission ;  and  twice  that  it  may  come  if  it  be  necessary. 

JESUS  in  weariness.  JESUS  seeing  all  his  friends  sleeping, 
and  all  his  enemies  vigilant,  betakes  himself  wholly  to  the 
Father. 

JESUS  does  not  regard  in  Judas  his  enmity,  but  the  order  o 
Qod,  which  he  loves  and  ....  since  he  calls  him  friend. 


CHAPTER   XXII.  337 

JESUS  tears  himself  away  from  his  disciples,  in  order  to  enter 
into  his  agony ;  we  must  tear  ourselves  away  from  those  neai- 
est  and  dearest,  in  order  to  imitate  him. 

JESDS  being  in  his  agony  and  the  greatest  pain,  let  us  the 
longer  pray. 

Console  thyself :  thou  wouldst  not  seek  me,  if  thou  hadst 
not  found  me. 

I  thought  on  thee  in  my  agony ;  such  drops  of  blood  I  shed 
for  thee.  « 

It  is  tempting  me  rather  than  proving  thee,  to  think  whether 
absent  thou  wouldst  do  such  or  such  a  thing :  I  will  do  it  in 
thee  if  it  come. 

Let  thyself  be  guided  by  my  rules ;  see  how  well  I  have 
guided  the  Virgin  and  the  saints,  who  have  allowed  me  to  act 
in  them. 

The  Father  loves  all  that  /  do. 

Wishest  thou  that  I  always  shed  the  blood  of  my  humanity, 
while  thou  dost  not  shed  even  tears? 

Conversion  is  my  work  :  fear  not,  and  pray  with  confidence 
in  me. 

I  am  present  to  thee  by  my  word  in  the  Scripture  ;  by  my 
spirit  in  the  Church,  and  by  inspirations  ;  by  my  power  in  the 
priests  ;  by  my  prayer  in  the  faithful. 

Physicians  will  not  heal  thee ;  for  thou  shalt  finally  die. 
But  it  is  I  who  heal  and  render  the  body  immortal. 

Suffer  chains  and  corporeal  servitude ;  I  deliver  thee  at 
present  only  from  spiritual  servitude. 

I  am  more  of  a  friend  to  thee  than  such  or  such  a  one ;  for 
1  have  done  for  thee  more  than  they,  and  they  would  not  suffer 
what  I  have  suffered  from  thee,  and  would  not  die  for  thee  in 
the  time  of  thy  infidelities  and  cruelties,  as  I  have  done,  as  I 
am  ready  to  do,  and  do  with  my  elect. 

If  thou  knewest  thy  sins  thou  wouldst  lose  heart. — I  shall 
lose  heart,  then,  Lord,  for  I  believe  their  malignancy  on  thy 
assurance. — No,  for  I,  through  whom  thou  dost  learn  this,  can 
teal  thee,  and  what  I  say  to  thee,  is  a  sign  that  I  wish  to  heal 

15 


338  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

thee.  Just  so  far  as  thou  shalt  expiate  thy  sins,  thou  shalt 
know  them,  and  it  shall  be  said  to  thee  :  Behold  the  sins  that 
are  forgiven  thee  !  Do  penance  then  for  thy  concealed  sins, 
and  for  the  hidden  malignity  of  those  that  thou  knowest. 

Lord,  I  give  thee  all. 

I  love  thee  more  ardently  than  thou  hast  loved  thy  impuri- 
ties. Ut  immundus  pro  Into. 

Mine  be  the  glory  and  not  thine,  worm  and  earth  [as  thou  art]. 

Ask  thy  director,  when  my  own  words  are  to  thee  an  occa- 
sion of  evil,  and  vanity  or  curiosity. 

m. 

I  see  my  abyss  of  pride,  of  curiosity,  of  concupiscence.  There 
is  no  relation  between  me  and  God,  nor  between  me  and  JESUS 
CHRIST  the  just.  But  he  has  been  made  sin  for  me  ;  all  thy 
scourges  have  fallen  on  him.  He  is  more  abominable  than  I, 
and,  far  from  abhorring  me,  he  deems  himself  honored  that  I 
go  to  him  and  aid  him. 

But  he  has  healed  himself,  and  for  a  still  stronger  reason 
will  he  heal  me. 

My  wounds  must  be  added  to  his,  and  I  must  be  joined  to 
him,  and  he  will  save  me  in  saving  himself. 

But  none  must  be  added  in  the  future. 

IV. 

Console  yourself :  it  is  not  of  yourselves  that  you  ought  to 
expect  him ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  in  expecting  nothing  of 
yourselves,  you  ought  to  expect  him. 

V. 

Sepulchre  of  Jesus  Christ. — JESUS  CHKIST  died  visibly  or 
the  cross.  He  died  and  was  hidden  in  the  sepulchre. 

JESUS  CHRIST  was  buried  only  by  saints. 

JESUS  CHRIST  wrought  no  miracle  in  the  sepulchre. 

Saints  alone  enter  it. 

It  is  there  that  JESUS  CHRIST  assumes  a  new  life,  not  upoi 
the  cross. 


CHAPTEE   TTTT.  339 

This  is  the  final  mystery  of  the  passion  and  the  redemption. 
JESCS  CHRIST  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head  upon  the  earth, 
but  in  the  sepulchre. 

His  enemies  ceased  to  persecute  him  only  in  the  sepulchre. 

VL 

I  speak  to  thee  and  counsel  thee  often,  because  thy  guide 
cannot  speak  to  thee,  for  I  do  not  wish  thee  to  be  without  a 
guide.  And  perhaps  I  do  it  for  his  prayers,  and  thus  he 
guides  thee  without  thy  knowledge. — Thou  wouldst  not  seek 
me,  if  thou  possessedest  me  not ;  do  not  disquiet  thyself  then. 

VII. 

I  do  not  compare  thee  to  others,  but  to  myself.  If  thou 
findest  me'  not  in  those  with  whom  thou  comparest  thyself, 
thou  comparest  thyself  with  a  reprobate.  If  thou  findest  me 
not  in  any  one,  then  compare  thyself  with  him.  But  what 
wilt  thou  compare  ?  thyself,  or  me  in  thee  1  If  it  is  thyself, 
it  is  a  reprobate.  If  it  is  I,  thou  comparest  me  to  myself. 
Now  I  am  God  in  all. 

vm. 

It  seems  to  me  that  Jssus  CHRIST  let  only  his  wounds  be 
touched,  after  his  resurrection  :  Noli  me  langere.  It  is  neces- 
sary to  unite  ourselves  only  to  his  sufferings. 

IX. 

. . .  He  administered  the  'communion  as  a  mortal  in  the  Last 
Supper,  as  one  raised  from  the  dead  to  the  disciples  of  Em- 
maus,.as  one  ascended  to  heaven  to  the  whole  Church. 

X. 

"  Pray,  lest  ye  enter  into  temptation."  It  is  perilous  to  be 
tempted ;  and  those  who  are,  are  tempted  because  they  pray  not. 

Et  tu  conversus  confirma  fratres  tuos  But  first,  conversv 
Jesut  reispexit  Petrum. 


340  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

Saint  Peter  asks  permission  to  strike  Malchus,  and  strikei 
before  hearing  the  response ;  and  JESUS  CHRIST  responds  after- 
wards. 

XL 

JESUS  CHRIST  did  not  wish  to  be  put  to  death  without  the 
forms  of  justice ;  for  it  is  much  more  ignominious  to  die  by 
justice  than  by  an  unlawful  sedition. 

XII. 

The  false  justice  of  Pilate  only  serves  to  make  JESUS  CHRIST 
suffer ;  for  he  causes  him  to  be  scourged  by  his  false  justice, 
and  then  puts  him  to  death.  He  had  better  have  put  him  to 
death  at  first.  Thus  the  false  just.  They  do  good  works  and 
wicked  to  please  the  world,  and  to  show  that  they  are  not 
wholly  for  JESUS  CHRIST  ;  for  they  are  ashamed  of  him.  In 
fine,  under  great  temptations  and  on  great  occasions,  they  put 
him  to  death. 


UHAPTEB  yym.  841 


CHAPTEK   XXIII. 

[ON    MIRACLES.] 

Miracle, — It  is  an  effect  which  exceeds  the  natural  force  of 
the  means  employed  for  it ;  and  a  non-miracle  is  an  effect 
which  does  not  exceed  the  natural  force  of  the  means  em- 
ployed for  it.  Thus,  those  who  cure  by  the  intervention  of  the 
devil,  do  not  work  a  miracle ;  for  this  does  not  exceed  the 
power  of  the  devil.1 

^[  Miracles  prove  the  power  which  God  has  over  the  heart 
by  that  which  he  exercises  over  the  body. 

L 

Miracles  test  doctrine,  and  doctrine  tests  miracles. 

There  are  false  and  true  [miracles].  We  must  have  some 
oiark  whereby  to  know  them  ;  otherwise  they  would  be  use- 
less. Now,  they  are  not  useless,  and  are,  on  the  contrary,  a 
foundation.  Now  it  is  necessary  that  the  rule  which  they  give 
us  be  such,  that  it  destroy  not  the  proof  which  the  true  mira- 
cles give  of  the  truth,  which  is  the  principal  object  of  miracles. 

Moses  has  given  two :  that  the  prediction  should  not  be  ful- 
filled (Deut.  xviii,  [22]) ;  and  that  they  should  not  lead  to  idol- 
Htry  (Deut.  xiii,  [4]) ;  and  JESUS  CHRIST  one. 

If  doctrine  regulates  miracles,  miracles  are  useless  for  doc- 


1  "  Si  quelquesfois  la  Providence  divine  a  passd  par  dessus  les  regies 
fcnsquelles  elles  nous  a  necessairement  astreincts,  ce  n'est  pas  pour  nous  en 
dispenser:  ce  sont  coups  de  sa  main  divine,  qu'il  nous  fault  ncn  pas  imi- 
ter,  maia  admirer ;  et  exemples  extraordlnaires,  marquez  d'un  exprez  et 
particulier  adveu,  du  genre  des  miracles,  qu'elle  nous  offre  pour  tesmoi- 
gnage  de  sa  toute  puissance,  au  dessus  de  r.os  ordres  et  de  nos  forces,  qu'U 
est  folie  et  impiete"  d'essayer  a  representer,  et  que  nous  ne  debvons  pas 
•ayvre,  mais  contempler  avec  estonneuient ;  actes  de  son  personnage,  nor 
pas  du  nostro." — Montaigne. 


342  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

trine.    If  miracles  regulate  doctrine,  could  we  enforce  all  doc- 
trine ?    No ;  for  this  would  not  happen.1 

*[[...  In  the  Old  Testament,  when  they  turn  you  away  from 
God.  In  the  New,  when  they  turn  you  away  from  JESUS 
CHRIST.  Here  are  the  occasions  of  exclusion  to  the  faith  of 
miracles,  indicated.  It  is  not  necessary  to  give  other  occasions 
of  exclusion. 

Does  it  follow  from  this  that  they  would  have  the  right  to 
exclude  all  the  prophets  who  came  to  them  ?  No.  They 
would  have  sinned  in  not  excluding  those  who  denied  God, 
and  they  would  also  have  sinned  in  excluding  those  who  did 
not  deny  God. 

As  soon  as  we  see  a  miracle,  then,  we  must  either  submit  to 
it,  or  have  striking  indications  of  the  contrary.  We  must  see 
whether  they  deny  either  God,  or  JESUS  CHRIST,  or  the  Church. 

If  there  were  no  false  miracles,  there  would  be  certainty. 
If  there  were  no  rule  for  testing  them,  miracles  would  be  use- 
less, and  there  would  be  no  reason  for  believing.  Now,  hu- 
manly speaking,  there  is  no  human  certainty  but  reason. 

^[  A  miracle,  they  say,  should  strengthen  my  belief.  They 
say  this  when  they  do  not  see  it.  The  reasons  which,  being 
seen  from  a  distance,  appear  to  limit  our  view,  but  when  we 
have  arrived  there,  we  begin  to  see  still  further.  Nothing 
stops  the  quick  working  of  our  mind.  There  is  no  rule,  it  is 
said,  that  is  without  exception,  no  truth  so  general  that  it  has 
no  aspect  in  which  it  is  deficient.  It  is  sufficient  that  it  be  not 
absolutely  universal,  in  order  to  give  us  grounds  for  applying 
the  exception  to  the  present  subject,  and  to  say :  This  is  not 
always  true ;  therefore,  there  are  cases  wherein  this  is  not  true 
It  only  remains  to  show  that  this  is  one  of  them ;  and  we  are 
very  awkward  or  very  unfortunate  if  we  do  not  find  this  to  be 
true  some  day. 

II. 

Every  religion  is  false  which,  in  its  faith,  does  not  adore  a 

1  This  phrase  which  completes  Pascal's  thought,  is  found  in  the  MS.,  a 
page  475. 


CHAPTER  xxin.  343 

God  as  the  principle  of  all  things,  and  which,  in  its  morals, 
does  not  love  one  only  God  as  the  object  of  all  things. 

^[  The  Jews  had  a  doctrine  from  God  as  we  have  one  from 
JESUS  CHRIST,  and  confirmed  by  miracles ;  and  forbidden  tc 
believe  in  all  workers  of  miracles,  and,  moreover,  ordered  to 
have  recourse  to  the  high  priests,  and  to  adhere  to  them.  And 
thus  all  the  reasons  which  we  have  for  refusing  to  believe  the 
workers  of  miracles,  they  had  in  regard  to  their  prophets. 
And  yet,  they  were  very  guilty  in  refusing  the  prophets,  be- 
cause of  their  miracles,  and  JESUS  CHRIST  ;  and  would  not 
have  been  guilty  if  they  had  not  seen  the  miracles.  JVm 
fecissem,  peccatum  non  haberent.  Then  all  belief  is  founded 
on  miracles. 

^[  The  proofs  which  JESUS  CHRIST  and  the  apostles  draw 
from  Scripture  are  not  demonstrative ;  for  they  merely  affirm 
that  Moses  has  said  that  a  prophet  would  come,  but  they  do  not 
prove  thereby  that  it  is  he,  and  this  was  the  whole  question. 
These  passages  serve,  then,  only  to  show  that  they  are  not 
contrary  to  Scripture,  and  that  no  repugnance  appears,  but  not 
that  there  is  accordance.  Now  this  suffices,  exclusion  of  repug- 
nance, with  miracles. 

m. 

JESUS  CHRIST  says  that  the  Scriptures  testify  of  him,  but  he 
does  not  show  in  what. 

Even  the  prophecies  could  not  prove  JESUS  CHRIST  during 
his  life.  And  thus  one  would  not  have  been  culpable  in  not 
believing  in  him  before  his  death,  if  the  miracles  had  not  been 
sufficient  without  the  doctrine.  Now  those  who  did  not  be- 
lieve on  him  while  he  was  still  living  were  sinners,  as  he  him- 
self eays,  and  without  excuse.  Therefore  it  was  necessary  that 
they  should  have  a  demonstration  which  they  might  resist. 
Now  they  had  not  .  .  .  but  simply  miracles ;  therefore  they 
are  sufficient,  when  the  doctrine  is  not  contrary,  and  we  should 
Delieve  in  him. 

^[  JESUS  CHRIST  has  verified  that  he  was  the  Messiah,  never 
m  verifying  his  doctrine  by  the  Scripture  and  the  prophecieeu 


344  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

but  always  by  his  miracles.  He  proves  that  he  forgives  sins 
by  a  miracle. 

Nicodemus  knew  by  his  miracles  that  his  doctrine  was  from 
God  :  Scimus  quia  a  Deo  venisti,  magister  ;  nemo  enim  potest 
hcec  signa  facere  qua  tu  facts,  nisi  fuerit  Dem  cum  eo.1  He 
does  not  judge  of  the  miracles  by  doctrine,  but  of  doctrine 
by  miracles. 

^[  There  is  a  reciprocal  duty  between  God  and  man  . . . 
Quid  debui  ?  "  Accuse  me,"  says  God  in  Isaiah.  "  God  should 
fulfil  his  promises,"  etc. 

Men  owe  it  to  God  to  receive  the  religion  which  he  sends 
them.  God  owes  it  to  men  not  to  lead  them  into  error.  Now, 
they  would  be  led  into  error  if  the  workers  of  miracles  an- 
nounced a  doctrine  that  did  not  appear  manifestly  false  to  the 
apprehension  of  common-sense,  and  if  a  greater  worker  of  mira- 
cles had  not  already  warned  them  not  to  believe  them.  Thus,  if 
there  were  division  in  the  Church,  and  if  the  Arians,  for  exam- 
ple, who  declared  themselves  founded  upon  the  Scripture  like 
the  Catholics,  had  wrought  miracles,  and  not  the  Catholics, 
men  would  have  been  led  into  error.  For,  as  a  man  who  pro- 
fesses to  make  known  to  us  the  secrets  of  God  is  not  worthy 
of  being  believed  on  his  own  private  authority ;  and  as  it  is 
for  this  that  the  impious  doubt :  so  a  man,  who,  in  proof  of 
the  communication  which  he  has  with  God,  raises  the  dead, 
predicts  future  events,  removes  seas,  heals  the  sick, — there  is 
none  so  impious  as  not  to  yield  to  these  things,  and  the  incre- 
dulity of  Pharaoh  and  the  Pharisees  is  the  effect  of  a  super- 
natural hardness  of  heart.  When,  therefore,  we  see  the  mira- 
cles, and  the  doctrine  without  suspicion,  altogether  on  one 
side,  there  is  no  difficulty.  But  when  we  see  the  miracles  and 
the  suspected  doctrine  on  the  same  side,  then  we  must  ascer- 
tain which  is  the  clearest.  JESUS  CHRIST  was  suspected. 

^[  There  is  much  difference  between  tempting  and  leading 
into  error.  God  tempts,  but  he  does  not  lead  into  error.  To 

i  "  We  know  that  thou  art  a  teacher  come  from  God ;  for  no  man  can  d« 
the  things  that  thou  doest,  except  God  be  with  him."— JcJtft  iii,  2. 


CHAPTEB  xxra.  345 

tempt  is  to  procure  the  occasions,  which  imposing  no  necessity, 
if  we  do  not  love  God,  we  will  do  a  certain  thing.  To  lead 
into  error  is  to  put  a  man  under  the  necessity  of  assuming  and 
following  a  falsehood. 

^[  The  justice  of  God  renders  it  impossible  that  a  man,  con- 
cealing his  bad  doctrine,  and  exhibiting  only  a  good  one,  and 
proclaiming  himself  in  conformity  with  God  and  the  Church, 
should  work  miracles  in  order  insensibly  to  insinuate  a  false 
and  subtile  doctrine  :  that  cannot  be.  And  still  less  that  God, 
who  knows  hearts,  should  work  miracles  in  favor  of  such  a  one. 

IV. 

There  is  much  difference  between  not  being  for  JESUS 
CHRIST,  and  saying  so ;  and  not  being  for  JESUS  CHRIST,  and 
pretending  to  be  so.  The  former  can  work  miracles,  not  the 
latter ;  for  it  is  clear  that  the  former  are  opposed  to  the  truth, 
not  the  latter ;  and  thus  the  miracles  are  clearer. 

^[  Miracles  are  a  test  in  doubtful  things :  between  the  Jew- 
ish people  and  the  Heathen ;  the  Jew  and  the  Christian ;  the 
Catholics  and  the  heretics;  the  calumniated  and  the  calumnia- 
tors ;  between  the  two  crosses.1  But  to  the  heretics  miracles 
would  be  useless,  for  the  Church,  authorized  by  the  miracles 
vhich  have  anticipated  the  belief,  informs  us  that  they  do  not 
ossess  the  true  faith.  There  is  no  doubt  that  they  are  not  in 
\ae  true  faith,  for  the  first  miracles  of  the  Church  exclude  their 
faith.  There  is  thus  miracle  against  miracle,  and  the  first  and 
greatest  on  the  side  of  the  Church. 

Abel,  Cain,  Moses,  magicians.  Elijah,  the  false  prophets. 
Jeremiah,  Ananias.  Micah,  the  false  prophets.  JESUS  CHRIST, 
Pharisees.  St.  Paul,  Elymas.  Apostles,  exorcists.  The  Chris- 
Jans  and  the  infidels.  The  Catholics,  the  heretics.  Elijah, 
Enoch,  Antichrist.  The  truth  always  prevails  in  miracles. 
The  two  crosses.8 

»  The  Saviour's  TOSS,  and  the  thiers  crow». 

»  This  last  paragraph  is  an  explanation,  hy  examples,  of  the  words: 
winters  against  miracles.  Pascal  opposes  truth  to  error ;  he  opposes  Mo- 


34:6  PASCAL. THOUaHTR. 

Never,  in  the  contention '  of  the  true  God,  and  of  the  truth 
of  religion,  has  a  miracle  been  wrought  on  the  side  of  error 
and  not  on  that  of  truth. 

^[  John  vii,  40.  Contestation  among  the  Jews,  as  among 
the  Christians  to-day.  Some  believed  in  JESUS  CHRIST,  others 
did  not,  because  of  the  prophecies  which  said  that  he  should 
be  born  in  Bethlehem.  They  should  rather  have  examined 
whether  he  was  not  born  there.  For  these  miracles  being  con- 
vincing, they  should  have  made  themselves  certain  in  regard 
to  these  pretended  contradictions  of  his  doctrine  to  the  Scrip- 
ture; and  this  obscurity  did  not  excuse  them,  but  blinded 
them.  So  those  who  refuse  to  believe  the  miracles  of  the  pres- 
ent day,  on  account  of  a  pretended  chimerical  contradiction, 
are  not  justifiable. 

JESUS  CHRIST  healed  the  born-blind,  and  wrought  a  number 
miracles  on  the  Sabbath-day.  By  which  he  blinded  the  Phari- 
sees, who  said  the  miracles  should  be  judged  by  the  doctrine. 

"  We  have  Moses  :  but  this  man,  we  know  not  whence  he 
is."  This  is  marvellous  that  you  know  not  whence  he  is,  an^ 
yet  he  works  such  miracles. 

JESUS  CHRIST  spoke  neither  against  God,  nor  against  Moses. 
The  Antichrist  and  the  false  prophets,  predicted  by  both  the 
Testaments,  will  speak  openly  against  God  and  against  JESUS 
CHRIST.  Whoever  should  be  a  concealed  enemy,  God  would 
not  permit  that  he  should  work  miracles  openly. 

^[  If  there  is  a  God,  the  faith  of  God  must  have  been  in  the 
world.  Now  the  miracles  of  JESUS  CHRIST  are  not  predicted 
by  Antichrist,  but  the  miracles  of  Antichrist  are  predicted 
by  JESUS  CHRIST  :  and  thus  if  JESUS  CHRIST  was  not  the  Mes- 
aiah,  he  would  certainly  have  led  into  error;  but  Antichrist 
cannot  welblead  into  error.  When  JESUS  CHRIST  predicted 
the  miracles  of  Antichrist,  did  he  think  to  destroy  faith  in  his 
own  miracles?  Moses  foretold  JESUS  CHRIST  and  commanded 

ees  to  the  magicians,  Christ  to  the  Pharisee,  the  Catholics  to  the  heretics, 
etc. 

»  The  contention  of  the  true  God,  etc.  That  is,  the  debates,  of  which  Qok 
was  the  object,  and  the  quarrels  wherein  religion  was  in  question. 


CHAPTER   XXlil.  347 

to  follow  him  ;  JESUS  CHRIST  foretold  tho  Antichrist  and  for- 
bade to  follow  him. 

It  was  impossible  that,  in  the  time  of  Moses,  men  should 
reserve  their  belief  in  the  Antichrist,  who  was  unknown  to 
them ;  but  it  is  very  easy,  in  the  time  of  the  Antichrist,  to 
believe  in  JESUS  CHRIST,  already  known. 

There  is  no  reason  to  believe  in  Antichrist,  that  there  is  not 
for  believing  in  JESUS  CHRIST  ;  but  there  are  reasons  for  be- 
lieving in  JESUS  CHRIST,  which  there  are  not  for  believing  in 
the  other. 

V. 

Miracles  are  more  important  than  you  think:  they  have 
served  for  the  foundation,  and  will  serve  for  the  continua- 
tion, of  the  Church,  to  the  time  of  Antichrist,  even  to  the 
end. 

*fl"  God  has  either  overthrown  false  miracles,  or  he  has  fore- 
told them ;  and  by  both  he  has  elevated  himself  above  that 
•which  is  supernatural  as  respects  ourselves,  and  has  raised  us 
to  the  same  elevation. 

^[  Miracles  have  such  a  force,  that  it  was  necessary  that 
God  should  warn  men  not  to  suppose  them  against  himself, 
however  clear  it  may  be  that  there  is  a  God ;  without  which 
they  might  have  been  capable  of  troubling  us. 

And  thus  so  far  from  these  passages  (Dent,  xiii)  being  again* 
the  authority  of  miracles,  nothing  marks  more  strongly  their 
force.    And  so  with  Antichrist :  "  and  seduce,  if  it  were  possi- 
ble, the  very  elect." 

VI. 

Reasons  why  we  do  not  believe. — The  reason  why  we  do  not 
believe  true  miracles  is  the  want  of  love.  John.  Sed  vos  non 
creditis  quia  non  estis  ex  ovibus.1  The  reason  why  the  false 
lire  believed,  is  the  want  of  love.  2  Thess.  ii,  [10]. 

^[  Having  considered  how  it  is  that  men  place  so  much  faith 

1  Ye  believe  not  because  ye  are  not  of  my  sheep. 


348  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

in  so  many  impostors,  who  profess  to  have  certain  remedies, 
aften  even  to  the  putting  their  lives  in  their  hands,  it  has  ap- 
peared to  me  that  the  true  reason  is  that  there  are  some  real 
remedies ;  for  it  could  not  be  possible  that  there  should  be  so 
many  false  ones,  and  that  they  should  obtain  so  much  credit, 
if  there  were  none  true.  If  there  never  had  been  a  remedy 
for  any  ill,  and  if  all  our  diseases  had  been  incurable,  it  is  im- 
possible that  men  could  have  imagined  that  they  were  able  to 
cure ;  and  still  more  that  so  many  others  should  have  given 
credit  to  those  who  have  boasted  of  having  effected  cures  : 
just  as,  if  a  man  boasted  of  being  able  to  prevent  us  from 
dying,  no  one  would  believe  him,  because  there  is  not  a  single 
example  of  this.  But  as  there  has  been  a  number  of  remedies 
which  have  been  found  real  by  the  knowledge  even  of  the 
greatest  men,  the  belief  of  men  has  been  warped  by  them ; 
and  this  having  been  known  to  be  possible,  they  have  thence 
concluded  that  it  was.  For  the  people  ordinarily  reason  thus  : 
A  thing  is  possible,  therefore,  it  is ;  because  the  thing  cannot 
be  denied  in  general,  since  there  are  particular  effects  which 
are  true,  the  people,  who  cannot  discern  which  among  these 
particular  effects  are  true,  believe  them  all.  In  like  manner, 
the  reason  why  so  many  false  effects  of  the  moon  are  believed 
is,  that  some  are  true,  as  the  flux  of  the  sea. 

It  is  the  same  with  prophecies,  miracles,  divinations  by 
dreams,  sorceries,  etc.  For,  if  in  all  this  there  never  had  been 
any  truth,  none  of  them  would  ever  have  been  believed  :  and 
thus  instead  of  concluding  that  there  are  no  true  miracles  be- 
cause there  are  so  many  that  are  false,  we  must  say,  on  the 
tontrary,  there  are  certainly  true  miracles,  since  there  are  so 
many  that  are  false,  and  that  there  are  false  miracles  only  for 
die  reason  that  there  are  true  ones. 

We  must  reason  in  the  same  way  in  regard  to  religion ;  for 
.t  would  not  be  possible  that  men  should  have  imagined  so 
many  false  religions,  if  there  were  not  a  true  one.  The  objec- 
t  on  to  this  is,  that  the  savages  have  a  religion  :  but  the  answei 
to  this  is,  that  they  have  heard  it  spoken  of,  as  it  would  appeal 
by  the  deluge,  circumcision,  St.  Andrew's  cross,  etc. 


CHAPTER   XXIII.  349 

vn. 

It  is  said,  Believe  in  the  Church,  but  it  is  not  said,  Believe 
in  miracles,  because  the  latter  is  natural,  and  not  the  former. 
The  one  required  a  precept,  not  the  other. 

VIII. 

. . .  These  ladies,1  astonished  at  its  being  said  that  the} 
are  on  the  road  to  perdition ;  that  their  confessors  are  lead- 
ing them  to  Geneva ; '  that  they  inspire  them  with  the  idea 
that  JESUS  CHRIST  is  not  in  the  Eucharist,  nor  on  the  right 
hand  of  the  Father ;  they  know  that  all  this  is  false ;  they, 
therefore,  offer  themselves  to  God  In  this  state :  Vide  si 
via  iniquitatis  in  me  est.  What  happens  thereupon  ?  This 
place,  which  is  said  to  be  the  devil's  temple,  God  makes  his 
own  temple.  It  is  said  that  the  children  ought  to  be  taken  out 
of  it :  God  heals  them  there.  It  is  called  the  arsenal  of  hell : 
God  makes  it  the  sanctuary  of  his  grace.  In  fine,  they  are 
menaced  with  all  the  fury  and  all  the  vengeance  of  heaven ;  and 
God  loads  them  with  his  favors.  We  must  have  lost  our  senses 
to  conclude  from  this  that  they  are  on  the  road  to  perdition. 

^[  In  order  to  weaken  your  adversaries,  you  disarm  the 
whole  Church. 

^[  If  they  say 3  that  our  salvation  depends  on  God,  they  are 
heretics.  If  they  say  that  they  are  submissive  to  the  pope,  it 
is  hypocrisy.  They  are  ready  to  subscribe  all  his  constitutions, 
but  that  is  not  sufficient.  If  they  say  that  we  must  not  kill 
for  an  apple,4  they  combat  the  ethics  of  the  Catholics.  If 
miracles  are  wrought  among  them,  it  is  not  a  mark  of  holiness, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  a  suspicion  of  heresy. 

^[  . .  .  The  three  marks  of  religion :  perpetuity,  a  good  life, 
piracies.  They  destroy*  perpetuity  by  probability,  good  life 

The  nuns  of  Port-Royal. 

That  is,  to  the  doctrines  professed  at  Geneva,  tD  Calvinism. 

If  they  say,  that  is,  the  Jansenists,  to  whom  the  paragraph  refers. 

"Kill  for  an  apple."    An  allusion  to  the  ethic»  of  the  Caauata. 

They  destroy^  that  is,  the  Jesuits. 


350  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

by  their  ethics;  miracles,  by  denying  either  their  truth,  01 
their  consequence.  . 

If  we  believe  them,  the  Church  will  have  nothing  to  do  with 
perpetuity,  a  holy  life,  or  miracles.  The  heretics  deny  them, 
or  deny  their  consequence ;  so  do  they.  But  one  must  be 
without  sincerity  to  deny  them,  or  must  have  lost  his  senses 
to  deny  their  consequence. 

*tf  . .  •  However  this  may  be,  the  Church  is  without  proofs, 
if  they  are  right. 

^[  The  Church  has  three  kinds  of  enemies :  the  Jews,  who 
never  have  been  of  its  body ;  the  heretics,  who  have  withdrawn 
themselves  from  it ;  and  bad  Christians,  who  rend  it  within. 

These  three  different  kinds  of  adversaries  generally  oppose 
the  Church  in  different  ways.  But  here  they  oppose  it  in  the 
same  way.  As  they  are  all  without  miracles,1  and  as  the 
Church  has  always  had  miracles  against  them,  they  have  all 
had  the  same  interest  in  eluding  them,  and  have  all  made  use 
of  this  evasion — that  we  must  not  judge  of  the  doctrine  by  the 
miracles,  but  of  the  miracles  by  the  doctrine.  There  were  two 
parties  among  those  who  heard  JESUS  CHRIST  :  one  that  fol- 
lowed his  doctrine,  because  of  the  miracles;  the  other  that 
said  . . .  There  were  two  parties  in  the  time  of  Calvin. .  . . 
There  are  now  the  Jesuits,  etc. 

^j[  This  is  not  the  country  of  truth :  she  wanders  unknown 
among  men.  God  has  covered  her  with  a  veil,  which  prevents 
her  from  being  known  by  those  who  do  not  understand  her 
voice.  The  way  is  open  to  blasphemy,  and  even  in  regard  to 
truths  that  are  at  least  very  apparent.  If  the  truths  of  the  Gos- 
pel are  published,  their  contraries  are  published,  and  the  ques- 
tions are  obscured,  so  that  the  people  cannot  discriminate. 
And  it  is  asked :  "  What  have  you  more  than  the  others  to 
make  yourselves  believed  ?  What  sign *  do  you  work  ?  You 
have  only  words,  and  we  also.  If  you  had  miracles,  well." 

1  "As  they  are  all  without  miracles."  When  Pascal  says  this  cf  tin 
/ews,  he  means  only  the  Jews  since  the  advent  ol  the  Messiah,  the  Jewi 
opposed  to  Jesus  Christ. — Havet. 

>  Sign,  in  the  sense  of  miracle. 


CHAPTER  xxm.  351 

This  is  a  truth,  that  the  doctrine  ought  to  be  sustained  by  the 
miracles,  which  are  perverted  in  order  to  blaspheme  the  doc- 
trine. And  if  miracles  are  wrought,  they  say  that  the  miracles 
are  not  sufficient  without  the  doctrine ;  and  this  is  another 
truth,  in  order  to  blaspheme  the  miracles. 

*§  How  glad  you  are  to  know  the  general  rules,  thinking 
thereby  to  cast  away  trouble,  and  render  every  thing  useless ! 
You  will  be  prevented  from  doing  this,  my  father :  truth  is,  one 
and  constant. 

IX. 

A  miracle  among  the  schismatics  is  not  so  much  to  be  feared : 
for  schism,  which  is  more  manifest  than  a  miracle,  manifestly 
indicates  their  error.  But  when  there  is  no  schism,  and  when 
there  is  a  question  of  error,  miracle  affords  a  test. 

^]~  John  ix  :  Non  est  hie  homo  a  Deo,  qui  sabbatum  non  cus- 
todit.  Alii:  Quomodo  potest  homo  peccator  haec  signa  facere ? 
Which  is  the  clearest  ? 

"  This  house  is  not  of  God,  for  it  does  not  believe  that  the 
five  propositions  are  in  Jansenius."  The  others  say :  "  This 
house  is  of  God ;  for  strange  miracles  are  wrought  in  it." 
Which  is  the  clearest  ? 

Tu  quid  dicis  ?  JDico  quia  propheta  est. — Nisi  esset  hie  a 
Deo,  non  poterat  facere  quidquam. 

^[  "  If  you  do  not  believe  in  me,  believe  at  least  in  the 
miracles."  He  sent  them,  as  it  were,  to  the  strongest. 

^[  It  had  been  told  the  Jews,  as  well  as  the  Christians,  that 
they  would  not  always  believe  the  prophets.  But,  neverthe- 
less, the  Pharisees  and  the  Scribes  make  much  ado  about  tho 
miracles,  and  try  to  show  that  they  are  false,  or  wrought  l.y 
the  "devil :  being  under  the  necessity  of  being  convinced,  i 
they  acknowledge  them  to  be  from  God. 

We  are  not  now  at  the  trouble  of  making  this  distinction. 
It  is,  however,  very  easy  to  do :  those  who  deny  neither  God 
nor  JESUS  CHRIST  work  no  miracle?  that  are  sure :  Nemo 
facial  virtutem  in  nom»ne  meo,  et  cito  vossit  de  me  male  loqui. 
But  we  have  not  to  make  this  distinction.  Here  is  a  sacred 


352  PA  SCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

relic.  Here  is  a  thorn  of  the  crown  of  the  Saviour  of  tho 
world,  over  whom  the  prince  of  this  world '  has  no  power,  who 
works  miracles  by  the  power  of  that  blood  which  was  shed  for 
us. "  Here  is  a  house 2  chosen  by  God  himself,  wherein  to  make 
manifest  his  power. 

It  is  not  men  who  work  these  miracles  by  an  unknown  and 
doubtful  virtue,  which  obliges  us  to  make  a  difficult  distinc- 
tion. It  is  God  himself;  it  is  the  instrument  of  the  passion  of 
his  only  Son,  who,  being  in  several  places,  chooses  this  one, 
and  causes  men  to  come  from  all  quarters,  to  receive  in  it  these 
miraculous  consolations  in  their  languor. 

^[  Miracles  are  no  longer  necessary,  but  when  tradition  is 
no  longer  listened  to,  when  nothing  but  the  pope  is  any  longer 
proposed,  when  he  has  been  circumvented,  and  the  true  source 
of  truth,  which  is  tradition,  having  thus  been  excluded,  and 
the  pope,  who  is  the  depositary  of  truth,  having  been  pre- 
possessed, when  truth  has  no  longer  the  liberty  to  appear : 
then,  men  no  longer  speaking  the  truth,  the  truth  ought  her- 
self to  speak  to  men.  This  is  what  happened  in  the  time  of 
Arius. 

John  vi,  [26]  :  Non  quia  vidistis  signa,  sed  saturati  estis? 

Those  who  follow  JESUS  CHRIST  because  of  his  miracles, 
nonor  his  power  in  all  the  miracles  which  it  produces ;  but 
those  who,  in  professing  to  follow  him  on  account  of  his  mira- 
cles, follow  him  in  fact  only  because  he  consoles  them,  and  fills 
them  with  the  goods  of  this  world,  they  dishonor  his  miracles, 
when  they  are  contrary  to  their  convenience. 

^[  Unjust  judges,4  make  not  laws  for  the  occasion;  judge  by 
those  that  are  established,  and  established  by  yourselves :  Vce 
yui  conditis  leges  iniquas. 

*J[  The  manner  in  which  the  Church  has  subsisted  is,  that 
he  truth  has  been  without  contestation  ;  or,  if  it  has  been  con- 

1  "  The  prince  of  this  world."     The  devil  (John  xii,  31.  etc.) 
-  Port-Royal. 

»  Ye  seek  me,  not  because  ye  saw  the  miracles,  but  because  ye  did  eal 
if  the  loaves,  and  were  filled. 
«  This  ia  addressed  to  the  Jesuits. 


CHAPTER  xxm.  353 

tested,  there  has  been  the  pope,  and  if  not,  there  has  been  the 
Church. 

^J"  It  is  important  to  kings,  to  princes,  that  they  should  be 
esteemed  for  piety,  and  for  this  end,  it  is  necessary  that  they 
hould  confess  to  you. 

^f  The  Jansenists  resemble  the  heretics  by  their  reformation 
f  morals,  but  you  resemble  them  in  eviL 


354  PASCAL. —  THOUGHT* 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

[ON   REASON,  GRACE,  FAITH,  THE   CHURCH,  AND  DIFFERENT   POI5T8   Of 
DOCTRINE  AND  MORALS.] 


PYRRHONISM  is  true ;  for,  after  all,  men,  before  JESUS  CHRIST, 
knew  not  where  they  were,  nor  whether  they  were  great  or 
Email.  And  those  who  have  said  either,  knew  nothing  of  it, 
and  divined,  without  reason,  and  by  chance ;  and  they  even 
always  erred  in  excluding  either.  Quod  ergo  ignorantes  quce- 
ritis,  religio  annuntiat  vobis. 

^[  The  only  license  that  is  against  the  common-sense  and 
nature  of  men,  is  the  only  one  that  has  always  subsisted  among 
men. 

H. 

Do  you  believe  it  is  impossible  that  God  should  be  infinite, 
without  parts  ?  Yes.  I  wish,  then,  to  show  you  an  infinite 
and  indivisible  thing ;  it  is  a  point  moving  everywhere  with  an 
infinite  swiftness ;  for  it  is  in  all  places,  and  is  entire  in  every 
place. 

Let  this  effect  of  nature,  which  at  first  seemed  to  you  im- 
possible, teach  you  that  there  may  be  others  which  you  do 
.lot  yet  know.  Do  not  draw  this  conclusion  from  your  ap- 
prenticeship— that  nothing  remains  for  you  to  know ;  but  that 
an  infinity  of  things  remains  for  you  to  know. 

m. 

The  providence  of  God,  which  disposes  of  all  things  sweetly, 
is  to  put  religion  in  the  mind  by  reasons,  and  in  the  heart 
by  grace.  But  to  undertake  to  put  it  in  the  mind  and  heart 
by  force  and  threats,  is  not  to  put  religion  there,  but  terror 
'errorem  potius  quam  religionem. 


CHAPTER   XXIV.  355 

^[  To  begin  by  pitying  the  incredulous ;  they  are  unfortu- 
nate enough  by  their  condition.  We  should  not  abuse  them, 
except  when  this  might  serve  them ;  but  this  injures  them. 

IV. 

The  whole  of  faith  consists  in  JESUS  CHRIST  and  Adam ;  an 
.in  morals,  in  concupiscence  and  grace. 

V. 

The  world  subsists  for  the  exercise  of  mercy  and  judgment, 
not  as  if  men  were  there  leaving  the  hands  of  God,  but  as 
enemies  of  God,  to  whom  he  gives,  by  grace,  sufficient  light 
to  return,  if  they  wish  to  seek  and  follow  him ;  but  to  punish 
them,  if  they  refuse  to  seek  and  to  follow  him. 

VI. 

Let  people  say  what  they  will,  it  must  be  confessed  that  the 
Christian  religion  has  something  astonishing  in  it.  It  is  be- 
cause you  were  born  in  it,  it  will  be  said.  So  far  from  it,  I 
gird  myself  against  it,  for  this  very  reason,  lest  this  prejudice 
suborn  me.  But,  although  I  have  been  born  in  it,  I  do  not 
fail  to  find  it  thus. 

VII. 

Shall  he  alone  who  knows  nature  know  it  only  to  be  misera- 
ble? Shall  he  alone  who  knows  it,  be  alone  unhappy? 

...  It  is  not  necessary  that  he  see  nothing  at  all ;  neither  is 
it  necessary  that  he  see  enough  of  it  to  believe  that  he  pos- 
sesses it ;  but  that  he  see  enough  of  it  to  know  that  he  haa 
lost  it :  for,  to  know  that  we  have  lost,  it  is  necessary  to  sec 
and  not  to  see ;  it  is  precisely  the  state  in  which  nature  is. 

^[  It  would  be  necessary  that  the  true  religion  should  teach 
greatness,  misery,  should  lead  to  esteem  and  contempt  of  self, 
to  love  and  hatred. 

VIII. 

Religion  is  a  thing  so  great,  that  it  is  just  that  those  who 
arould  not  take  the  pains  to  seek  it  if  it  is  obscure,  should  be 


356  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

deprived  of  it.  What  do  they  complain  of,  then,  if  it  is  such 
that  they  could  find  it  by  seeking  it  ? 

^[  Pride  counterbalances  and  outweighs  all  miseries.  Be- 
hold a  strange  monster,  and  a  very  obvious  aberration. 
Behold  him  fallen  from  his  place,  which  he  seeks  with  dis- 
quietude. This  is  what  all  men  do.  Let  us  see  who  has 
found  it. 

^[  When  it  is  said  that  JESUS  CHRIST  did  not  die  for  all, 
you  abuse  a  vice  of  men,  who  immediately  apply  this  excep- 
tion to  themselves,  which  is  to  favor  despair,  instead  of  turning 
them  from  it,  in  order  to  favor  hope.  For  we  accustom  our- 
selves thus  to  the  interior  virtues  by  these  external  habits. 

IX. 

The  dignity  of  man  consisted  in  his  innocence,  in  using  and 
having  dominion  over  the  creatures,  but  now  it  consists  in 
avoiding  and  subduing  them. 


The  Church  has  always  been  combated  by  contrary  errors ;' 
but  never,  perhaps,  at  the  same  time,  as  at  present.  If  she 
suffers  more  because  of  the  multiplicity  of  errors,  she  receives 
this  advantage  from  them — that  they  destroy  each  other. 

It  complains  of  both,  but  much  more  of  the  Calviniste,  on 
account  of  schism. 

It  is  certain  that  several  of  the  two  contrary  sects  are  mis- 
taken. It  is  necessary  to  disabuse  them. 

Faith  embraces  several  truths  which  seem  to  contradict  each 
other.  Time  to  laugh,  to  weep,  etc.  Responde.  Ne  respon^ 
deas,  etc. 

The  source  of  this  is  the  union  of  the  two  natures  in  JESUS 
CHRIST. 

And  also  the  two  worlds.     The  creation  of  a  new  heaven 

1  These  twc  errors  are :  1°.  That  which  sacrifices  free  will  to  grace ;  thU 
u  the  eiror  ol  Calvin ;  2°.  That  which  sacrifices  grace  to  free  will ;  this  u 
the  error  of  tha  Jesuits. 


CHAPTER   XXIV.  357 

Mid  a  r.ew  earth ;  new  life,  new  death ;  all  things  doubly,  and 
the  same  names  remaining. 

And,  in  fine,  the  two  men  who  are  among  the  just,  for  they 
are  the  two  worlds,  and  a  member  and  image  of  JESUS  CHRIST. 
And  thus  all  names  suit  them :  just,  sinners ;  dead,  living  • 
living,  dead ;  elect,  reprobate,  etc. 

There  is  then  a  great  number  of  truths,  both  of  faith  and 
ethics,  which  seem  repugnant,  and  which  all  subsist  in  an 
admirable  order. 

The  source  of  all  heresies,  is  the  exclusion  of  some  one  or 
other  of  these  truths ;  and  the  source  of  all  the  objections 
which  the  heretics  bring  against  us,  is  the  ignorance  of  some 
of  these  truths. 

And,  generally,  it  happens  that,  not  being  able  to  conceive 
the  relation  between  two  opposite  truths,  and  believing  that 
the  adoption  of  one  involves  the  exclusion  of  the  other,  they 
attach  themselves  to  one,  they  exclude  the  other,  and  think 
that  we  do  the  contrary.  Now,  the  exclusion  is  the  cause  of 
their  heresy;  and  ignorance  that  we  hold  the  other,  causes 
their  objections. 

1st  Example  :  JESUS  CHRIST  is  God  and  man.  The  Arians 
not  being  able  to  reconcile  these  things,  which  they  believe  to 
be  incompatible,  say  that  he  is  man ;  in  this  they  are  Catho- 
lics. But  they  deny  that  he  is  God  :  in  this  they  are  heretics. 
They  pretend  that  we  deny  his  humanity ;  in  this  they  are 
ignorant. 

2d  Example,  on  the  subject  of  the  holy  sacrament :  We 
believe  that  the  substance  of  the  bread  being  changed,  and 
consubstantially  into  that  of  the  body  of  Our  Lord,  JESUS 
CHRIST  is  really  present  therein.  This  is  a  truth.  Another  is, 
that -this  sacrament  is  also  one  of  the  figures  of  the  cross  and 
of  the  glory,  and  a  commemoration  of  both.  This  is  the  Catho- 
lic faith,  which  comprehends  these  two  truths,  which  seem  to 
oe  contradictory. 

The  heresy  of  the  day,1  not  corceiving  that  this  sacrament 

1  Calvinism. 


358  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

contains,  at  the  same  time,  both  the  presence  of  JESUS  CHRIST, 
and  his  type,  and  that  he  is  the  sacrifice  and  the  commemora- 
tion of  the  sacrifice,  thinks,  for  this  reason,  that  it  cannot  admit 
one  of  these  truths  without  excluding  the  other. 

They  adhere  to  this  single  point,  that  this  sacrament  is  fig 
urative ;  and  in  this  they  are  not  heretics.  They  think  that 
wo  exclude  this  truth ;  and  from  this  it  comes  that  they  make 
BO  many  objections  to  us,  founded  upon  the  passages  of  the 
Fathers  who  assert  it.  Finally,  they  deny  the  presence ;  and 
in  this  they  are  heretics. 

3d  Example :  Indulgences. 

Hence  the  shortest  way  to  prevent  heresy,  is  to  teach  all 
the  truths ;  and  the  surest  way  to  refute  heresy  is  to  declare 
them  all.  For  what  will  the  heretics  say  ? 

All  err  so  much  the  more  dangerously  as  they  each  follow 
a  truth.  Their  fault  is  not  that  of  following  a  falsehood,  but 
in  not  following  another  truth. 

^[  Grace  will  always  be  in  the  world  (and  also  nature),  so 
that  it  is,  in  some  sort,  natural.  And  thus  there  will  always 
be  Pelagians,  and  always  Catholics,  and  always  conflicts. 

Because  the  first  birth  makes  the  former,  and  the  grace  of 
the  second  birth  makes  the  latter. 

XI. 

There  is  this  in  common  between  the  ordinary  life  of  men 
and  that  of  saints,  that  they  all  aspire  to  felHty ;  and  they 
differ  only  in  the  object  wherein  they  place  it.  Both  call 
those  their  enemies  who  prevent  them  from  obtaining  it. 

We  ought  to  judge  of  what  is  good  or  bad  by  the  will  of 
God,  who  can  be  neither  unjust  nor  blind ;  and  not  by  our  own 
will,  which  is  always  full  of  malice  and  error. 

XII. 

When  St.  Peter  and  the  apostles  were  deliberating  in  regard 
to  abolishing  circumcision,  where  the  point  in  question  was 
whether  to  act  against  the  law  of  God,  they  did  not  consult  the 
Drophets,  but  simply  the  reception  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the 


CHAPTER   XXIV.  359 

persons  of  the  uncircumcised.  They  judged  it  more  sure  that 
God  approves  those  whom  he  fills  with  his  Spirit,  than  that  it 
is  necessary  to  observe  the  law ;  they  knew  that  the  object  of 
the  law  was  only  the  Holy  Spirit;  and  that  thus,  since  they 
certainly  had  it  without  circumcision,  circumcision  was  no 
necessary. 

xin. 

Two  laws  are  sufficient  to  rule  the  whole  Christian  republic, 
better  than  all  political  laws.1 

^[  Religion  is  proportioned  to  all  kinds  of  minds.  The  first 
stop  at  its  establishment  alone ;  and  this  religion  is  such  that 
its  establishment  alone  is  sufficient  to  prove  its  truth.  Others 
go  as  far  as  the  apostles.  The  most  learned  go  as  far  as  the 
commencement  of  the  world.  The  angels  see  it  still  better, 
and  farther. 

^[  God,  in  order  to  reserve  to  himself  alone  the  right  ot 
instructing  us,  and  to  render  the  problem  of  our  being  unin- 
telligible to  us,  has  hidden  the  solution  of  it  so  high,  or,  to 
speak  more  correctly,  so  low,  that  we  were  incapable  of  finding 
it :  so  that  it  is  not  by  the  agitations  of  our  reason,  but  by  the 
simple  submission  of  the  reason  that  we  can  truly  know  our- 
selves. 

XIV. 

The  impious,  who  profess  to  follow  reason,  ought  to  be  won- 
derfully strong  in  reason.  What  do  they  say  then  ?  Do  we 
not  see,  say  they,  that  brutes  die  and  live  like  men,  and  Turks 
like  Christians  ?  They  have  their  ceremonies,  their  prophets, 
their  doctors,  their  saints,  their  religious,  like  us,  etc. — Is  this 
contrary  to  Scripture  ?  does  it  not  assert  all  this  ?  If  you  care 
but  little  to  know  the  truth,  here  is  enough  to  leave  you  in 
repose.  But  if  you  desire  with  all  your  heart  to  know  the 
truth,  it  is  not  enough ;  examine  minutely.  It  would  be 
PLough  for  'a  question  of  philosophy ;  but  here  where  every 

1  Here  Port-Royal  adds,  and  according  to  us,  with  reason :  "  the  love  ot 
Bod  and  that  of  oar  neighbor." 


360  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

thing  is  at  state. . . .  And  yet,  after  a  superficial  reflection  of 
this  sort,  people  will  amuse  themselves,  etc.  Let  them  inform 
themselves  of  this  very  religion,  whether  it  does  not  render  a 
reason  for  tb;.s  obscurity ;  perhaps  it  will  instruct  us  on  this 
point. 

^[  It  is  a  horrible  thing  to  feel  all  that  we  possess  gliding 
way. 

*[[  Partis. — It  is  necessary  to  live  differently  in  the  world 
according  to  these  different  suppositions:  1°.  Whether  we 
could  be  here  always ;  2°.  Whether  it  is  sure  that  we  shall  not 
long  be  here,  and  uncertain  whether  we  shall  be  here  an  hour. 
This  last  supposition  is  ours. 

XV. 

By  the  partis  you  ought  to  put  yourself  to  trouble  to  dis- 
cover the  truth  :  for  if  you  die  without  adoring  the  true  prin- 
ciple, you  are  lost.  But,  you  say,  if  he  had  wished  that  I 
should  adore  him,  he  would  have  left  me  some  signs  of  his 
will.  So  he  has ;  but  you  neglect  them.  Seek  them,  then ;  it 
is  well  worth  it. 

XVI. 

The  prophecies,  the  miracles  even,  and  the  proofs  of  our  re- 
ligion, are  not  of  such  a  nature  that  we  can  say  they  are  ab- 
solutely convincing.  But  they  are  also  of  such  a  kind  that 
we  can  say  that  it  is  not  without  reason  that  they  are 
believed.  So  there  is  evidence  and  obscurity,  to  enlighten 
some  and  to  obscure  others.  But  the  evidence  is  such,  that 
it  surpasses,  or  equals  at  least,  the  evidence  of  the  contrary ; 
BO  that  it  is  not  the  reason  that  can  determine  us  not  to  follow 
it ;  and  thus  it  can  be  only  the  concupiscence  and  wickedness 
of  the  heart.  And  by  this  means  there  is  sufficient  evidence 
to  condemn,  and  not  sufficient  to  convince ;  in  order  that  it 
might  appear  that  in  those  who  follow  it,  it  is  grace  and  not 
reason,  that  makes  it  followed;  and  that  in  those  who  shun  it^ 
fc  is  concupiscence  and  not  reason,  that  makes  it  shunned. 

^j"  Who  can  help  admiring  and  embracing  a  religion,  whick 


CHAPTER   XXIV.  361 

knows  thoroughly  what  we  recognize  the  more,  the  moie  light 
we  have  ? 

^[  ...  It  is  an  heir  who  finds  the  titles  of  his  house.  Will 
he  say :  Perhaps  they  are  false  ?  and  will  he  neglect  to  ex- 
amine them  ? 

XVII. 

Two  sorts  of  persons  know :  those  whose  hearts  are  hum- 
bled, and  who  love  lowliness,  whatever  degree  of  mind  they 
may  have,  high  or  low ;  or  those  who  have  sufficient  mind  to 
perceive  the  truth,  whatever  opposition  they  may  have  in  it. 

^[  The  sages  who  have  said  that  there  is  a  God,  have  been 
persecuted,  the  Jews  hated,  the  Christians  still  more. 

^[  Atheists. — What  reason  have  they  for  saying  that  we 
cannot  rise  again  ?  which  is  the  more  difficult,  to  be  born,  or 
to  rise  again  ?  that  what  has  never  been,  should  be,  or  that 
what  has  been,  should  be  again  ?  Is  it  more  difficult  to  come 
into  being,  than  to  return  to  it  ?  Custom  makes  the  one  easy 
to  us ;  the  want  of  custom  renders  the  other  impossible.  The 
populan  way  of  judging. 

xvm. 

What  have  they  to  say  against  the  resurrection,  and  against 
the  Virgin  bringing  forth  ?  Is  it  more  difficult  to  produce 
a  man,  or  an  animal,  than  to  reproduce  it  ?  And  if  they  had 
never  seen  a  species  of  animals,  could  they  divine  whether 
they  were  produced  without  the  company  of  one  another  ? ' 

XIX. 

. . .  But  is  it  probable  that  probability  gives  assurance  f — 
Difference  between  repose  and  surety  of  ccnscience.  Nothing 
gives  assurance  but  truth.  Nothing  gives  repose  but  sincere 
•earch  after  truth. 

'  Here  Pascal  adds :  "  Why  cannot  a  virgin  bring  forth  ?  Does  not  a  hen 
lay  eggs  without  a  cock?  who  can  distinguish  them,  outwardly,  tn.m  tha 
others  ?  and  who  has  told  us  that  the  hen  cannot  form  this  germ  as  well  at 
the  cock  ? " 

16 


PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

XX. 

The  examples  of  the  heroic  deaths  of  the  Lacedemonians 
*nd  others,  scarcely  touch  us ;  for  what  does  that  bring  us ! 
But  the  example  of  the  death  of  the  martyrs  louches  us  ;  for 
tK  >.y  are  our  members.  We  have  a  common  bond  with  them : 
tht  >r  resolution  may  form  ours,  not  only  by  the  example,  but 
because  it  has,  perhaps,  merited  ours.  There  is  nothing  of 
this  in  the  examples  of  the  pagans  :  we  have  no  connection 
with  them ;  as  people  do  not  become  rich  by  contemplating  a 
wealthy  stranger,  but  indeed  by  seeing  a  wealthy  father,  or 
spouse. 

XXI. 

The  w/ect  will  be  ignorant  of  their  virtues,  and  the  reprobate 
of  the  greatness  of  their  crimes :  "  Lord,  when  have  we  seen 
thee  hungif,  thirsty,  etc.?" 

^[  JESUS  CHRIST  did  not  wish  the  testimony  of  demons,  nor 
of  those  who  were  not  called ;  but  of  God,  and  John  the  Baptist. 

XXII. 

What  spoils  us  for  comparing  what  formerly  took  place  in 
the  Church  with  what  we  see  in  it  now,  is  that  ordinarily  we 
regard  St.  Athana&ms,  St.  Teresa,  and  the  others,  as  crowned 
with  glory,  and  ....  like  gods.  Now  that  time  has  cleared 
up  these  matters,  it  appears  thus.  But  in  the  days  of  his  per- 
secution, this  great  saint  was  a  man  who  was  called  Atha- 
nasius,  and  St.  Teresa,  a  nun.  "  Elias  was  a  man  subject  to 
like  passions  as  we  are,"  said  St.  James  [v,  17],  in  order  to 
disabuse  the  Christians  of  this  false  idea  which  makes  us  reject 
the  example  of  the  saints,  as  disproportioned  to  our  state. 
They  were  saints,  we  say,  they  were  not  like  us.  What  hap- 
pened at  that  time,  then  ?  St.  Athanasius  was  a  man  called 
Athanasius,  accused  of  several  crimes,  condemned  in  such  and 
such  a  council,  for  such  and  such  a  crime.  All  the  bishops 
consented  to  it,  and  finally  the  pope.  What  do  we  say  to 
those  who  resist  him  ?  That  they  break  the  peace,  that  they 
cause  schism,  etc. 


CHAPTER    XXIT.  363 

Four  sorts  of  persons :  zeal  without  knowledge  ;  knowledge 
without  zeal ;  neither  knowledge  nor  zeal ;  zeal  and  knowledge. 
The  three  former  condemn  him,  and  the  latter  absolve  him, 
and  are  excommunicated  from  the  Church,  and  nevertheless 
save  the  Church. 

XXIII. 

Men  have  contempt  for  religion,  the^  have  a  hatred  of  it, 
and  fear  that  it  is  true.  To  cure  this  i"  is  necessary  to  com 
mence  by  showing  that  religion  is  not  contrary  to  reason ;  then 
that  it  is  venerable,  and  worthy  of  respect ;  next  to  make  it 
amiable,  and  make  the  good  wish  that  it  were  true ;  and  finally 
to  show  that  it  is  true.1 

Venerable,  because  it  has  known  men  well ;  amiable,  because 
it  promises  the  true  good. 

^[  A  word  from  David,  or  from  Moses,  as  God  will  circum- 
cise your  hearts  \Deut.  xxx,  6],  makes  us  judge  of  their  mind. 
Let  all  the  other  discourses  be  equivocal,  and  doubtful  whether 
they  are  Philosophic  or  Christian,  a  word  of  this  nature  deter- 
mines all  the  others,  as  a  word  of  Epictetus  determines  all  the 
rest  to  the  contrary.  Thus  far  ambiguity  continues  and  no 
farther. 

1  "  That  it  is  true."  Here  is  what  Louis  Eacine  says  in  the  preface  to 
Ms  poem  entitled  Religion;  "Such  is  the  plan  of  this  work  which  I  have 
framed  on  this  short  thought  of  M.  Pascal :  To  those  who  have  a  repug- 
nance for  religion,  it  is  necessary  to  begin  by  showing  them  that  it  is  not 
contrary  to  reason ;  then,  that  it  is  venerable ;  next,  render  it  amiable, 
and  make  it  to  be  wished  that  it  were  true,  show  that  it  is  true,  and  finally 
that  it  is  amiable ;  and  this  thought  is  the  abridgment  of  this  whole  poem, 
in  the  composition  of  which  I  have  often  made  use  of  other  thoughts  of  the 
same  author." — Havet. 

"It  is  by  ethics  that  Pascal  was  brought  back  to  religion,  as  being  itselt 
the  most  perfect  of  all  ethics,  and  the  only  ethics  that  has  known  all  and 
harmonized  all.  From  this  time  truth  was  for  him  entirely  in  revelation, 
»nd  he  undertook  to  prove  it,  not  indeed  as  an  authority  transmitted  by 
testimony  or  as  an  establishment  founded  by  ages,  but  as  an  evident  truth. 
We  see,  an  unheard  of  thing,  the  method  of  Descartes  applied  to  the  dem- 
pistration  of  faith ;  the  rigor  of  the  geometric  mind,  which  advances  only 
by  evidences,  employed  in  proving  t-ie  religion  of  miracles ;  the  instru- 
ment ever,  of  science  serving  to  confound  science,  and  reasoning  directed 
against  the  resistance  of  the  reason  to  faith." — Nisard 


364  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

^|"  I  should  have  much  more  fear  of  being  mistaken,  and  of 
finding  that  the  Christian  religion  is  true,  than  of  not  being 
mistaken  in  believing  it  true. 

XXIV. 

The  conditions  the  easiest  to  live  in,  according  to  the  world, 
are  the  most  difficult,  according  to  God ;  and  vice  versa.  Noth- 
ing is  so  difficult  according  to  the  world  as  the  religious  life ; 
nothing  is  easier  according  to  God.  Nothing  is  more  easy 
than  to  live  in  a  high  position,  and  to  have  great  wealth  ac- 
cording to  the  world ;  nothing  is  more  difficult  than  to  live  in 
them  according  to  God,  and  without  taking  part  and  pleasure 
in  them. 

XXV. 

The  Old  Testament  contained  the  figures  of  the  future  joy, 
and  the  New  contains  the  means  of  reaching  it.  The  figures 
were  of  joy ;  the  means  of  penitence ;  and  nevertheless  the 
paschal  lamb  was  eaten  with  wild  herbs,  cum  amaritudinibus. 

XXVI. 

The  word  Galilee,  which  the  Jewish  crowd  pronounced  as 
by  chance,  in  accusing  JESUS  CHRIST  before  Pilate,  caused 
Pilate  to  send  JBSUS  CHRIST  to  Herod ;  by  which  was  accom- 
plished the  mystery,  that  he  should  be  judged  by  the  Jews  and 
the  Gentiles.  The  apparent  chance  was  the  cause  of  the  ac- 
complishment of  the  mystery. 

xxvn. 

A  person  said  to  me  one  day  that  he  had  great  joy  and  con- 
fidence in  coming  out  of  the  confessional :  another  said  that  he 
remained  in  fear.  I  thought  thereupon  that  of  these  two  a 
good  one  might  be  made,  and  that  each  wanted  something,  in- 
asmuch as  he  had  not  the  feeling  of  the  other.  This  often 
happens  in  the  same  way  in  other  things. 


CHAPTER   XXIV.  365 

XXVIII. 

There  is  pleasure  in  being  on  a  vessel  tost  by  the  storm 
when  we  are  certain  that  we  shall  not  perish.  The  persecu 
tions  which  trouble  the  Church  are  of  this  nature. 

^J"  The  History  of  the  Church  ought  properly  to  be  called 
the  History  of  the  truth. 

XXIX. 

As  the  two  sources  of  our  sins  are  pride  and  sloth,  God  has 
discovered  to  us  two  qualities  in  himself  in  order  to  cure  them : 
his  mercy  and  his  justice.  The  property  of  justice  is  to  abase 
pride,  however  holy  the  works  may  be,  et  non  intres  in  judi- 
cium  ;  and  the  property  of  mercy  is  to  combat  sloth  by  inviting 
to  good  works,  according  to  this  passage  :  "  The  mercy  of  God 
leadeth  thee  to  repentance ;"  and  this  other  of  the  Ninevites : 
"  Who  can  tell  if  God  will  return  and  repent,  and  turn  away 
from  his  fierce  anger,  that  we  perish  not."  And  thus  so  far  from 
mercy  authorizing  remissness,  it  is,  on  the  contrary,  the  quality 
which  formally  combats  it ;  so  that  instead  of  saying,  If  there 
was  no  mercy  in  God,  it  would  be  necessary  to  make  all  sorts 
of  efforts  for  virtue ;  we  must  say,  on  the  contrary,  that  it  is 
because  there  is  mercy  in  God,  that  we  must  make  all  sorts  ot 
efforts. 

XXX. 

All  that  is  in  the  world  is  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  or  lust  of  the 
eyes,  or  pride  of  life  :  libido  sentiendi,  libido  sciendi,  libido  do- 
minandi.  Unhappy  the  land  of  malediction  which  these  three 
rivers  of  fire  embrace  rather  than  water  !  Happy  those  who, 
being  upon  these  rivers,  not  engulfed,  not  carried  away,  but 
immovably  established ;  not  standing,  but  sitting  in  a  low  and 
sure  seat,  from  which  they  never  rise  before  the  light,  but,  after 
having  reposed  in  it  in  peace,  stretch  out  the  hand  to  him  who 
will  raise  them  again,  in  order  to  make  them  stand  erect  and 
firm  within  the  porches  of  the  holy  Jerusalem,  where  pride 
can  no  more  combat  and  abase  them ;  and  who  nevertheless 
weep,  not  indeed  at  seeing  glide  past  all  the  perishable  things 


3G6  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

which  the  torrents  carry  away,  but  at  the  remembrance  o» 
their  dear  country,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  "which  they  re- 
member without  ceasing  during  the  length  of  their  exile  ! 

XXXI. 

Charity  is  not  a  figurative  precept.  To  say  that  JESUS 
CHRIST,  who  has  come  to  take  away  figures  in  order  to  estab- 
lish the  truth,  has  come  only  to  establish  the  figure  of  charity 
in  order  to  take  away  the  reality  which  was  before ;  this  is 
horrible.  If  the  light  is  darkness,  what  will  the  darkness  be  ? 

XXXII. 

How  many  existences  have  our  glasses  discovered  which 
were  not  for  our  philosophers  formerly  !  They  wickedly  ridi- 
culed the  holy  Scripture  in  regard  to  the  great  number  of  the 
stars,  saying :  There  are  but  a  thousand  and  twenty-two,1  we 
know  it. 

XXXIII. 

Man  is  so  made,  that  by  dint  of  telling  him  that  he  is  a  fool, 
he  believes  it ;  and,  by  dint  of  telling  himself  so,  he  makes 
himself  believe  it.  For  man  holds  an  inward  conversation 
«*ith  himself,  which  ought  to  be  well  regulated:  Corrumpunt 
pwres  bonos  colloquia  prava?  We  ought  to  keep  silence  as 
rouch  as  possible,  and  hold  converse  only  with  God,  whom  we 
know  to  be  the  truth,  and  thus  we  shall  persuade  ourselves 
olit. 

XXXIV. 

What  difference  is  there  between  a  soldier  and  a  Carthusian, 
as  to  obedience  ?  For  they  are  equally  obedient  and  depend- 

1  "One  thousand  and  twenty-two."  This  is  the  number  of  stars  com- 
|irised  in  Ptolemy's  Catalogue,  from  the  observations  of  Hipparcus.  But  wo 
read  in  the  Cosmos :  "  The  number  of  stars  that  can  be  distinguished  by  tb« 
use  of  the  telescope  in  the  milky-way,  is  estimated  at  eighteen  millions.  In 
order  to  give  us  an  idea  of  the  magaitude  of  this  number,  or  rather  to  aid 
ns  with  a  term  of  comparison,  it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  we  cannot  see  with 
the  naked  oye,  on  the  whole  surface  of  the  heavens,  more  than  eight  thou 
sand  stars ;  such  is  in  fact  the  number  of  stars  comprised  between  the  firaf 
•nd  the  sixth  magnitude." — Havet. 

Evil  communications  corrupt  good  manners. 


CHAPTER   XXTV.  367 

ent,  and  their  discipline  is  equally  painful.  But  the  soldier 
always  hopes  to  become  master,  and  never  becomes  such  (for 
the  captains,  and  princes  even,  are  always  slaves  and  depend- 
ants) ;  but  he  always  hopes  it,  and  always  works  for  it.  Whilst 
the  Carthusian  makes  a  vow  never  to  be  any  thing  but  de- 
pendent. Thus  they  do  not  differ  in  their  perpetual  servitude, 
;.n  which  state  both  are  always,  but  in  hope,  which  the  one  has 
always,  and  the  other  never. 

XXXV. 

Our  own  will  can  never  be  satisfied,  even  if  it  should  have 
power  over  every  thing  it  wishes ;  but  we  are  satisfied  from 
the  instant  that  we  renounce  it.  Without  it  we  cannot  be  dis- 
contented ;  with  it  we  cannot  be  contented. 

*|f  . . .  The  true  and  only  virtue  is,  then,  to  hate  ourselves, 
for  we  are  hateful  by  our  concupiscence,  and  to  seek  a  truly 
amiable  being,  in  order  to  love  him.  But,  as  we  cannot  love 
what  is  out  of  us,  we  must  love  a  being  who  is  in  us,  and  who 
is  not  us,  and  this  is  true  of  each  and  all  men.  Now,  there  is 
only  the  universal  being  who  is  such.  The  kingdom  of  God 
is  within  us ;  the  universal  good  is  in  ourselves,  and  it  is 
not  us. 

•f  It  is  unjust  that  people  should  become  attached  to  me,  al- 
though they  may  do  so  voluntarily  and  with  pleasure.  I  should 
deceive  those  in  whom  I  should  create  the  desire ;  for  I  am 
the  end  of  nobody,  and  have  nothing  wherewith  to  satisfy 
them.  Am  I  not  ready  to  die  ? '  And  so  the  object  of  their 


>  Pascal  had  made  this  thought  the  rule  of  his  inward  life ;  and  in  order 
to  have  it  always  present  he  wrote  it  with  his  own  hand  on  a  separato 
piece  of  paper,  as  Madame  Perier  informs  us,  who,  in  her  life  of  her 
brother,  quotes  this  passage  without  changing  it  in  the  least.  Port-Royal 
did  not  io  like  Madame  Perier;  it  has  removed  the  first  person  singuhir 
which  is  sublime  here;  it  has  extinguished  in  the  frosts  of  abstraction 
the  ardent  melancholy  of  this  passage,  which  seems  to  have  been  written 
ir  the  desert  by  the  burning  pen  of  St.  .'  srome,  or  by  the  author  of  the 
Imitation  in  his  cell. 

Port-Eoyal:  "It  is  unjust  that  people  should  become  attached  to  «« 
ilthough  they  may  do  so  voluntarily  and  with  pleasure  ;  we  thall  deceit 


368  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

attachment  will  die  then.  As  I  should  be  guilty  in  making  a 
falsehood  believed,  although  I  should  persuade  to  it  mildl) 
and  although  it  should  be  believed  with  pleasure,  and  although 
in  this  I  should  receive  pleasure :  so  I  am  culpable  in  making 
myself  loved,  and  if  I  attract  people  to  become  attached  to 
me.  I  ought  to  warn  those  who  may  be  ready  to  consent  to 
a  lie,  that  they  should  not  believe  it,  whatever  advantage 
might  come  to  me  from  it ;  and  so,  that  they  should  not  be- 
come attached  to  me ;  for  it  is  necessary  that  they  spend  their 
life  and  efforts  in  pleasing  God,  or  in  seeking  him. 

XXXVI. 

It  is  to  be  superstitious  to  put  our  hope  in  formalities ;  but 
it  is  to  be  proud  not  to  be  willing  to  submit  to  them. 

XXXVII. 

All  the  religions  and  sects  of  the  world  have  had  natural 
reason  for  their  guide.  The  Christians  alone  have  been  com- 
pelled to  take  their  rules  from  without,  and  to  inform  them- 
selves of  those  which  JESUS  CHRIST  left  to  the  early  Christians 
in  order  to  be  transmitted  to  the  faithful.  This  constraint  tires 
.these  good  fathers.  They  wish  to  have,  like  other  people,  the 
liberty  of  following  their  imaginations.  It  is  in  vain  that  we 
cry  to  them,  as  the  prophets  said  formerly  to  the  Jews  :  Stand 
ye  in  the  way,  and  ask  for  the  old  paths,  where  is  the  good 
way,  and  walk  therein.  They  have  answered  like  the  Jews : 
We  will  not  walk  therein ;  but  we  will  certainly  do  accord- 
ing to  the  thoughts  of  our  own  heart,  like  the  nations  round 
about  us. 

XXXVIII. 

There  are  three  means  of  believing :  reason,  custom,  and  in- 
epiration.  The  Christian  religion,  which  alone  has  reason, 
docs  not  admit  as  its  true  children,  those  who  believe  without 

those  in  w  horn  we  shall  create  the  desire  ;  for  we  are  the  end  of  nobody 
and  have  not  wherewith  to  satisfy  them.  (To  what  does  they  refer?)  Ar« 
we  not  ready  to  die,  and  so  the  object  of  their  attachment  would  die." — 
Ooutin. 


CHAPTER   XXIV.  369 

inspiration  :  not  that  it  excludes  reason  and  custom ;  on  the 
contrary,  but  it  is  necessary  to  open  the  mind  to  proofs,  and 
confirm  ourselves  therein  by  custom  ;  but  offer  ourselves  by 
humiliations  to  inspirations,  which  alone  can  give  the  true  and 
salutary  effect :  Ne  evacuetur  crux  Christi. 

XXXIX. 

We  never  do  evil  so  fully  and  so  gayly  as  when  we  do  it 
consciously. 

XL. 

The  Jews,  who  were  called  to  subdue  nations  and  kings, 
were  slaves  to  sin ;  and  Christians,  whose  vocation  was  to 
serve,  and  be  subject,  are  the  children  that  are  free. 

XLI. 

Is  it  courage  in  a  dying  man  to  go,  in  weakness  and  in 
agony,  to  affront  an  almighty  and  eternal  God  ? 

XLII. 

History  of  China. — I  believe  only  those  histories  whose  wit- 
nesses would  shed  their  blood  in  their  support. 

There  is  no  question  of  seeing  this  in  general.  I  tell  you 
that  there  is  wherewith  to  blind  and  wherewith  to  enlighten. 
By  this  single  word  I  ruin  all  your  reasonings.  But  China 
darkens,  you  say ;  and  I  answer :  China  darkens,  but  there  is 
light  to  be  found  there ;  seek  it.  Thus  all  you  say  favors  one, 
and  does  not  oppose  the  other.  Therefore  this  serves,  and 
hurts  not.  We  must  then  look  at  this  in  detail,  we  must  have 
the  documents. 

XLI1L 

Superstition  and  concupiscence.  Scruples,  improper  desires. 
Improper  fear. 

Fear,  not  that  which  comes  from  believing  in  God,  but  that 
which  comes  from  doubting  whether  he  is  or  not.  Proper 
fear  comes  from  faith,  false  faith  comes  from  doubt.  Proper 
fear  is  allied  to  hope,  because  it  is  born  of  faith,  and  because 

160 


370  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

we  hope  in  the  God  in  wnom  we  believe :  improper  fear  is  al- 
lied to  despair,  because  we  fear  the  God  in  whom  we  have  no 
faith.  The  former  fear  to  lose  him,  the  latter  fear  to  find  him. 

XLIV. 

Solomon  and  Job  have  best  known  and  best  spoken  of  the 
misery  of  man :  the  former  is  the  most  fortunate,  the  latter 
the  most  unfortunate ;  the  one  knowing  the  vanity  of  pleasures 
by  experience,  the  other  the  reality  of  evils. 

XLV. 

Heretics. — Ezekfiel],  All  the  pagans  spoke  evil  of  Israel, 
and  the  prophet  also ;  and  so  far  from  the  Israelites  having  a 
right  to  say  to  him,  "  You  speak  like  the  pagans,"  he  made  it 
his  strongest  argument  that  the  pagans  spoke  like  him. 

XLVI. 

There  are  only  three  sorts  of  persons :  those  who  serve  God, 
having  found  him  ;  those  who  are  employed  in  seeking  him, 
not  having  found  him  ;  those  who  live  without  seeking  him,  or 
having  found  him.  The  first  are  reasonable  and  happy ;  the 
last  are  fools  and  unhappy;  those  of  the  middle  class  are 
unhappy  and  reasonable. 

XLVH. 

Men  often  take  their  imaginations  for  their  hearts ;  and  they 
think  they  are  converted  as  soon  as  they  think  of  being  con- 
verted. 

XLVIII. 

Reason  acts  with  slowness,  and  with  so  many  views,  on  so 
many  principles,  which  it  is  necessary  to  have  always  present, 
that  at  every  hour  it  becomes  drowsy,  and  goes  astray,  for  the 
want  of  having  all  its  principles  present.  Feeling  does  not  a<-t 
thus ;  it  acts  in  an  instant,  and  is  always  ready  to  act.  It  is 
necessary,  then,  to  put  our  faith  in  feeling,  otherwise  It  wil 
always  be  wavering. 


CHAPTEE   XXIT  371 

XLIX. 

Man  is  manifestly  made  for  thinking ;  it  is  all  his  dignity 
and  all  his  merit ;  and  his  whole  duty  is  to  think  correctly ; 
and  the  order  of  thought  is  to  begin  with  himself,  with  his 
author,  and  his  end.1  Now,  what  does  the  world  think  cf  i 
Xover  of  this;  but  of  dancing,  of  playing  the  lute,  of  singing, 
of  making  verses,  of  running  at  the  ring,  etc.,  of  fighting,  o< 
becoming  a  king,  without  thinking  what  it  is  to  become  a 
king,  and  what  it  is  to  be  a  man. 

^[  The  whole  dignity  of  man  is  in  thought.  But  \ruat  is> 
this  thought  ?  how  foolish  it  is !  * 


If  there  is  a  God,  we  ought  to  love  only  him,  and  not  his 
transitory  creatures.  The  reasoning  of  the  impious  in  Wis- 
dom* is  founded  only  on  the  supposition  that  there  is  no 
God.  This  being  granted,  they  say,  let  us  then  enjoy  the 
creature.  This  is  the  last  shift.  But  if  there  was  a  God  to 
love,  they  would  not  have  concluded  thus,  but  the  contrary. 
And  it  is  the  conclusion  of  the  wise :  there  is  a  God ;  there- 
fore, let  us  not  enjoy  the  creature.  Therefore,  every  thing 

i  "  It  is  in  the  solitude  of  Port-Royal,  in  the  midst  of  those  deep  philo- 
eopliic  and  literary  studies  that  were  made  there,  that  Pascal  concentrated 
all  his  thoughts  on  this  living  subject,  on  man,  all  of  whose  greatnesses 
and  miseries  he  experienced  in  himself:  not  man  such  as  Montaigne  paints 
him,  coming  by  universal  doubt  to  believe  only  in  himself;  nor  man,  ac- 
cording to  Descartes,  who  is  satisfied  to  know  that  there  is  a  God,  and  that 
there  is  a  soul  which  exists  distinct  from  the  body,  and  who  disposes  him- 
nelf  in  such  a  way  as  to  live  the  most  agreeably,  and  for  as  long  a  time  as 
possible  in  the  world;  but  man  such  as  Christianity  has  described  him; 
.nan,  -of  whom  Montaigne  has  not  seen  all  the  greatness,  nor  Descartes  all 
the  littleness."—  NUard. 

4  VAR.  OF  MS. :  "  The  whole  dignity  of  man  is  in  thought.  Thought 
is,  therefore,  something  admirable  and  incomparable  in  its  nature.  It 
would  be  necessary  that  it  should  have  strange  faults  to  be  despicable. 
But  it  has  such  faults,  that  nothing  is  more  ridiculous.  How  high  it  is  by 
\ts  nature !  how  low  it  is  by  its  faulU  !"  (erased). 

1  That  is,  in  tht  book  of  Wudom.  This  book  is,  we  know,  attributed  to 
Molomoii. 


372  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

that  incites  us  to  attach  ourselves  to  the  creature  is  bad,  since 
this  hinders  us  either  from  serving  God,  if  we  know  him,  or 
from  seeking  him,  if  we  are  ignorant  of  him.  Now,  we  are 
full  of  concupiscence :  therefore,  we  are  full  of  evil ;  therefore, 
we  ought  to  hate  ourselves,  and  every  thing  which  excites  us 
to  any  other  attachment  than  God  alone. 

LI. 

When  we  wish  to  think  of  God,  is  there  nothing  that  turns 
as  from  it,  that  tempts  us  to  think  of  something  else  ?  All 
this  is  bad,  and  born  with  us. 

LIL 

It  is  false  that  we  are  worthy  of  being  loved  by  others ;  it 
is  unjust  that  we  should  wish  it.  If  we  were  born  reasonable 
and  indifferent,  and  knowing  ourselves  and  others,  we  should 
not  give  this  inclination  to  our  will.  We  are  born,  however, 
with  it:  we  are,  therefore,  born  unjust;  for  every  thing  tends 
to  self.  This  is  against  all  order :  it  is  necessary  to  tend  to 
the  general  good ;  and  the  inclination  towards  self  is  the  com- 
mencement of  all  disorder,  in  war,  in  government,  in  economy, 
in  the  human  body.  The  will  is  then  depraved. 

If  the  members  of  natural  and  civil  communities  seek  tho 
good  of  the  body,  the  communities  themselves  should  seek  the 
good  of  another  more  general  body,  of  which  they  are  mem- 
bers. We  ought,  then,  to  seek  the  general  good.  We  are, 
therefore,  born  unjust  and  deprared. 

^[  Whoever  does  not  hate  in  himself  his  self-love,  and  that 
instinct  which  leads  him  to  make  himself  a  God,  is  blind 
indeed.  Who  does  not  see  that  nothing  is  so  opposed  to  jus- 
tice and  truth  ?  For  it  is  false  that  we  merit  this :  and  it  ia 
unjust  and  impossible  to  attain  it,  since  all  demand  the  same 
thing.  This  is,  then,  a  manifest  injustice  in  which  we  aro 
born,  from  which  we  cannot  free  ourselves,  and  from  which 
is  necessary  to  free  ourselves. 

Nevertheless  no  religion  has  remarked  that  this  was  a  sin, 


CHAPTER    XXIV.  373 

or  that  we  were  born  in  it,  or  that  we  were  obliged  to  resist 
it,  or  has  thought  to  give  us  remedies  for  it. 

LIII. 

Civil  war  in  man  between  reason  and  the  passions.  If  ho 
had  only  reason  without  passions  ....  If  he  had  only  pas- 
suns  without  reason  ....  But  having  both,  he  cannot  be  with- 
out arar,  not  being  able  to  have  peace  with  the  one  without 
having  war  with  the  other.  Thus  he  is  always  divided,  and 
contrary  to  himself. 

^f  If  it  is  a  supernatural  blindness  to  live  without  seeking 
to  know  what  we  are,  it  is  terrible  to  live  badly,  while  believ- 
ing in  God. 

LIV. 

It  is  unquestionable  that,  let  the  soul  be  mortal  or  immor- 
tal, this  must  make  an  entire  difference  in  morals ;  and  yet 
the  philosophers  have  managed  morals  independently  of  all 
this.  They  deliberate  how  to  pass  an  hour.1  Plato 8  to  dis- 
pose to  Christianity. 

^[  The  last  act  is  bloody,  however  beautiful  the  play  may 
be  in  every  other  respect.  At  last  some  earth  is  thrown  over 
him,  and  there  he  is  forever. 

LV. 

Morals. — God  having  made  heaven  and  earth,  which  do  not 
feel  the  happiness  of  their  existence,  wished  to  make  beings 
who  should  know  him,  and  who  should  compose  a  body  of 
thinking  members.  For  our  members  do  not  feel  the  happi- 
ness of  their  union,  of  their  admirable  harmony,  of  the  care 
which  nature  takes  to  influence  the  vital  spirits,  and  to  in- 
foase  and  preserve  them.  How  happy  they  would  be  if  they 
.'elt  it,  if  they  saw  it !  But  it  would  be  necessary  for  this  that 
they  should  have  the  intelligence  to  know  it,  and  the  good  will 

1  That  is  :   They  debate  in  order  to  know  how  they  shall  pan  this  lif-^  which 
wulures  but  an  instant. 
»  Understood :  is  a  suitable  author  to  dispose. 


374:  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

to  consent  to  that  of  the  universal  soul.  If,  having  received 
intelligence,  they  should  make  use  of  it  to  retain  in  them- 
selves the  nourishment,  without  allowing  it  to  pass  to  the 
other  members,  they  would  be  npt  only  unjust,  but  miserable 
also,  and  they  would  hate,  rather  than  love  each  other :  their 
beatitude,  as  well  as  their  duty,  consists  in  consenting  to  the 
government  of  the  all-embracing  soul,  to  whom  they  belong, 
who  loves  them  better  than  they  love  themselves. 

^[  To  be  a  member  is  to  have  no  life,  being,  or  motion,  but 
by  the  spirit  of  the  body,  and  for  the  body.  A  separated 
member,  seeing  no  longer  the  body  to  which  it  belongs,  has 
only  a  perishing  and  dying  existence. 

Yet  it  thinks  it  is  a  whole,  and  seeing  no  body  to  which  it 
belongs,  it  thinks  it  belongs  only  to  itself,  and  wishes  to  make 
itself  a  centre  and  body.  But  having  in  itself  no  principle  of 
life,  it  only  wanders,  and  wonders  at  the  uncertainty  of  its  ex- 
istence ;  distinctly  feeling  that  it  is  not  a  body,  and  yet  not 
seeing  that  it  is  a  member  of  a  body.  Finally,  when  it  comes 
to  know  itself,  it  is,  as  it  were,  returned  home,  and  loves  itself 
no  more  but  for  the  body ;  it  bemoans  its  past  wanderings. 

It  could  not  by  its  nature  love  any  thing  else,  except  for 
itself  and  in  order  to  subject  it,  because  every  thing  loves 
itself  better  than  all.  But  in  loving  the  body  it  loves  itself, 
because  it  has  no  being  but  in  it,  by  it,  and  for  it :  qui  adhceret 
Deo  unus  spiritus  est. 

•J"  The  body  loves  the  hand  ;  and  the  hand,  if  it  had  a  will, 
would  love  itself  in  the  same  way  that  the  soul  loves  it.  All 
love  which  exceeds  this  is  unjust. 

Adhcerens  Deo  unus  spiritus  est.  We  love  ourselves  be- 
cause we  are  members  of  JESUS  CHRIST.  We  love  JKSCS 
CHRIST  because  he  is  the  body  of  which  we  are  members.  All 
is  one,  one  is  the  other,  like  the  three  persons. 

^[  Members. — In  order  to  regulate  the  love  which  we  owe 
to  ourselves,  it  is  necessary  to  imagine  a  body  full  of  thinking 
members,  for  we  are  members  of  the  whole  body,  and  to  see 
how  each  member  ought  to  love  itself,  etc. 

If  the  feet  and  hands  had  a  private  will,  they  would  never 


CHAPTER   XXIV.  375 

be  in  their  place  but  in  submitting  this  private  will  to  the 
primary  will  which  governs  the  entire  body.  Otherwise,  they 
are  in  disorder  and  misfortune ;  but  in  wishing  only  the  good 
of  the  body,  they  consult  their  own  good. 

^[  It  is  necessary  to  love  only  God,  and  hate  only  ourselves 

If  the  foot  had  always  been  ignorant  that  it  belonged  to  th 
body,  and  that  there  was  a  body  on  "which  it  depended,  if  it 
had  had  only  the  knowledge  and  love  of  self,  and  had  come  to 
know  that  it  belongs  to  a  body  on  which  it  depends,  what  re- 
gret, what  confusion  for  its  past  life,  to  have  been  useless  to 
the  body,  which  has  influenced  its  life,  which  would  have  anni- 
hilated it,  if  it  had  rejected  and  separated  it  from  itself,  as  it 
separated  itself  from  the  body  !  What  prayers  for  its  preser- 
vation !  and  with  what  submission  it  would  let  itself  be  gov- 
erned by  the  will  which  regulates  the  body,  even  to  consent  to 
be  cut  off,  if  it  were  necessary !  Or  it  would  lose  its  quality 
of  member ;  for  it  is  necessary  that  every  member  should  be 
willing  to  perish  for  the  body,  which  is  the  only  thing  for 
which  all  exist. 

^[  In  -order  that  the  members  may  be  happy,  it  is  necessary 
that  they  have  a  will,  and  that  they  conform  it  to  the  body. 

^[  Reason  of  effects. — Concupiscence  and  compulsion  are  the 
sources  of  all  our  actions :  concupiscence  gives  rise  to  volun- 
tary actions :  compulsion  to  those  that  are  involuntary. 

LVL 

Philosophers. — They  believe  that  God  alone  is  worthy  of 
being  loved  and  admired,  and  yet  they  desire  to  be  loved  and 
admired  of  men,  not  knowing  their  own  corruption.  If  they 
feel  themselves  full  of  sentiments  of  love  and  adoration  for  him, 
and  if  they  find  their  chief  joy  in  him,  very  well,  I  do  not  object 
that  they  deem  themselves  good.  But  if  they  find  themselves 
averse  to  this,  if  they  have  no  inclination  but  to  wish  to  estab- 
lish themselves  in  the  esteem  o*"  men,  and  if  their  whole  perfec- 
tion consists,  merely  in  making  men,  without  compulsion,  find 
their  happiness  in  loving  them,  I  shall  say  that  this  perfection 
is  horrible.  What !  they  have  known  God,  and  not  exclusively 


376  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

desired  that  men  should  love  him,  [but]  that  men  should  stop 
at  them ;  they  have  wished  to  be  the  object  of  the  voluntary 
happiness  of  men ! 

LVII. 

It  is  true  that  there  is  difficulty  in  entering  into  pitty.  But 
this  difficulty  does  not  come  from  the  piety  that  begins  to 
exist  in  us,  but  from  the  impiety  which  still  remains  there. 
If  our  senses  were  not  opposed  to  penitence,  and  if  our  corrup- 
tion was  not  opposed  to  the  purity  of  God,  there  would  be  iu 
this  nothing  painful  for  us.  We  suffer  only  in  proportion  as 
vice,  which  is  natural  to  us,  resists  supernatural  grace.  Our 
heart  feels  itself  torn  between  these  contrary  efforts.  But  it 
would  be  very  unjust  to  impute  this  violence  to  God,  who 
draws  us  to  himself,  instead  of  attributing  it  to  the  world, 
which  holds  us  back.  As  a  child,  snatched  by  its  mother 
from  the  arms  of  robbers,  ought  to  love,  even  in  the  pain  that 
it  suffers,  the  affectionate  and  legitimate  violence  of  her  who 
procures  its  liberty,  and  to  detest  only  the  fierce  and  tyrannical 
violence  of  those  who  unjustly  retain  it.  The  most  cruel  war 
that  God  can  wage  against  men  in  this  life  is,  to  leave  them 
without  that  war  which  he  came  to  bring.  "  I  am  come  to 
bring  war,"  he  said ;  and,  to  inform  us  what  this  war  is  :  u  I 
am  come  to  bring  fire  and  sword."  Before  him,  the  world 
lived  in  a  false  peace. 

LVIH. 

On  confessions  and  absolutions  without  signs  of  regret. — God 
1  >oks  only  at  the  interior :  the  Church  judges  only  by  the  ex- 
terior. God  absolves  as  soon  as  he  sees  penitence  in  the 
heart ;  the  Church  when  she  sees  it  in  works.  God  will  make 
a  Church  which  is  pure  within,  which  confounds  by  its  inter- 
nal and  wholly  spiritual  sanctity  the  internal  impiety  of  proud 
sages  and  pharisees  :  and  the  Church  will  form  an  assembly 
of  men,  whose  outward  manners  shall  be  so  pure,  that  they 
will  confound  the  manners  of  pagans.  If  there  are  hypocrites 
unong  them,  but  so  well  disguised  that  she  does  not  perceive 
their  venom,  she  supers  them  to  remain  ;  for,  although  they  are 


CHAPTER   XXIV.  377 

Dot  received  uy  Gi>d,  whom  they  cannot  deceive,  thcj  arc  re- 
ceived by  men,  whom  they  deceive.  And  thus  she  is  not  dis- 
honored by  their  conduct,  which  appears  holy.  But  you  wish  the 
Church  to  judge  neither  of  the  interior  because  that  belongs 
only  to  God,  nor  of  the  exterior,  because  God  stops  only  at  the 
interior;  and  thus,  taking  from  her  all  choice  of  men,  you  re- 
tain in  the  Church  the  most  dissolute,  and  those  who  dishonor 
her  so  much  that  the  synagogues  of  the  Jews,  and  the  sects 
of  the  philosophers  would  have  exiled  them  as  unworthy,  and 
would  have  abhorred  them  as  impious. 

LIX. 

The  law  has  not  destroyed  nature ;  but  it  has  instructed 
nature  :  grace  has  not  destroyed  the  law ;  but  has  fulfilled  it. 
The  faith  received  at  baptism  is  the  source  of  the  whole  life  of 
the  Christian  and  the  converted. 

^[  We  make  an  idol  of  truth  itself ;  for  truth,  apart  from 
charity,  is  not  God,  it  is  his  image,  and  an  idol,  that  we  ought 
neither  to  love  nor  adore,  and  still  less  ought  we  to  love  and 
adore  its  contrary,  which  is  falsehood. 

•[[  I  could  very  well  love  total  darkness ;  but  if  God  places 
me  in  a  state  which  is  half  dark,  the  little  darkness  that  there 
is  displeases  me,  and  because  I  do  not  see  the  merit  of  an  en- 
tire darkness,  it  does  not  please  me.  It  is  $.  fault,  and  a  sign 
that  I  make  an  idol  of  darkness,  separated  from  the  order  of 
God.  Now  we  ought  to  adore  only  his  order. 

LX. 

All  great  amusements  are  dangerous  for  the  Christian  life ; 
but,  among  all  those  that  the  world  has  invented,  there  is  none 
that  is  more  to  be  feared  than  the  drama.  It  is  a  representa 
lion  of  the  passions,  so  natural  and  so  delicate,  that  it  awaken 
ihem  and  gives  birth  to  them  in  our  hearts,  and  especially 
that  of  love :  principally  when  it  is  represented  as  eminently 
thaste  and  virtuous.  For  the  more  innocent  it  appears  to  in- 
nocent minds,  the  more  they  are  capable  of  being  moved  by  it. 
Its  violence  pleases  our  self-love,  which  soon  forms  a  desiie  to 


378  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

cause  the  same  effects,  which  we  see  so  well  represented ;  and 
we  at  the  same  time  appease  our  conscience  by  the  honorable 
nature  of  the  sentiments  which  we  see  in  it,  which  calms  the 
tear  of  pure  minds,  which  imagine  that  it  is  not  wound  ng 
purity  to  love  with  an  affection  which  appears  to  them  to  lie 
so  rational.  Thus  we  leave  the  theatre  with  the  heart  so  filled 
with  all  the  charms  and  all  the  delights  of  love,  the  heart  and 
the  mind  so  well  persuaded  of  its  innocence,  that  we  are  fullv 
prepared  to  receive  its  first  impressions,  or  rather,  to  seek  the 
opportunity  of  giving  hirth  to  them  in  the  heart  of  another,  in 
order  to  receive  the  same  pleasures  and  the  same  sacrifices 
which  we  saw  so  well  depicted  on  the  stage. 

LXI.       - 

. . .  Loose  opinions  please  men  so  well,  that  it  is  strange  that 
theirs  are  displeasing.  It  is  because  they  have  exceeded  all 
bounds.  And,  moreover,  there  are  many  people  who  see  the 
truth,  and  who  cannot  reach  it.  But  there  are  few  who  do 
not  know  that  the  purity  of  religion  is  contrary  to  our  corrup- 
tions. Ridiculous  to  say  that  an  eternal  recompense  is  offered 
to  Escobartine1  manners. 

LXH. 

Silence  is  the  greatest  persecution :  never  have  the  saints 
held  their  peace.  It  is  true  there  should  be  a  call  to  speak, 
but  it  is  not  from  the  decrees  of  the  Council  *  that  we  ought  to 
learn  whether  we  are  called,  it  is  from  the  necessity  of  speak- 
ing. Now,  after  Rome  has  spoken,  and  we  think  that  she  has 
condemned  truth,  and  that  they  have  written  it ;  and  that  the 
books  which  have  affirmed  the  contrary  are  censured,  it  is 
necessary  to  cry  the  louder  the  more  unjustly  we  are  censured, 


1  Pascal  here  makes  an  adjective  of  Escobar, — in  regard  to  wLom  see 
The  Provincial  Letters,  passim. — Ed. 

J  An  allusion  to  the  decree  of  the  23d  September,  1 660,  which  condenr.noJ 
the  Latin  translation  of  the  Provinciates,  by  Nicolt,,  to  be  burned.  Tin 
iecree  was  executed  the  14th  October  of  the  same  year. 


CHAPTEB   XXIV.  379 

and  the  more  violently  they  wish  to  suppress  the  word,  until  a 
pope  will  come  who  will  hear  both  parties,  and  who  will  con- 
sult antiquity  in  order  to  do  justice.  Truly  the  good  popes 
will  still  find  the  Church  in  clamors. 

. . .  The  Inquisition  and  the  Society,1  the  two  scourges  of 
truth. 

. . .  Why  do  you  not  accuse  them  of  Arianism  ?  For  they 
have  said  that  JESUS  CHRIST  is  God  :  perhaps  they  understand 
it,  not  by  nature,  but  as  it  is  said,  Dii  estis. 

^[  If  my  letters  are  condemned  at  Rome,  what  I  condemn 
in  them  is  condemned  in  heaven  :  Ad  tuum,  Domine  Jesu,  tri- 
bunal appello. 

. . .  You  are  yourself  corruptible. 

...  I  am  afraid  that  I  may  have  written  erroneously,  seeing 
myself  condemned ;  but  the  example  of  so  many  pious  writings 
makes  me  think  otherwise.  It  is  no  longer  permitted  to 
write  the  truth,  so  corrupt  or  ignorant  is  the  Inquisition ! 

...  It  is  better  to  obey  God  than  men.  I  fear  nothing,  I 
hope  for  nothing.  The  bishops  are  not  thus.  Port-Roya! 
fears,  and  it  is  bad  policy  to  separate  them ;  for  they  will  fear 
no  longer,  and  will  no  longer  make  themselves  feared. 

...  I  do  not  fear  even  your  censures,  if  they  are  not  founded 
ou  those  of  tradition.  Do  you  censure  every  thing?  what? 
even  my  respect  ?  No.  Then  say  what,  or  you  will  do  noth- 
ing, if  you  do  not  designate  the  evil,  and  why  it  is  evil.  And 
it  is  what  they  would  have  much  difficulty  in  doing. 

T/XTTT. 

Nature  has  some  perfections,  to  show  that  she  is  the  image 
of  God ;  and  some  defects,  to  show  that  she  is  only  his  image. 

LXIV. 

Men  are  so  necessarily  fools,  that  it  would  be  being  a  fool  in 
a  higher  strain  of  folly,  not  to  be  a  fool. 

>  TheSocietj  of  Jesus. 


380  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

LXV. 

Take  away  probability,  we  can  please  the  world  no  longer 
Give  the  world  probability,  we  can  no  longer  displease  it. 

LXVI. 

The  ardor  of  the  saints  in  seeking  and  practising  the  good, 
was  useless,  {{probability  is  sure. 

LXVII. 

To  make  a  man  a  saint,  it  must  indeed  be  by  grace ;  and 
whoever  doubts  this,  does  not  know  what  a  saint  is,  or  a  man. 

LXVIII. 

We  love  certainty.  We  like  the  pope  to  be  infallible  in 
faith,  and  the  grave  doctors  to  be  infallible  in  morals,  in  order 
to  have  assurance. 

LXIX. 

We  must  not  judge  of  what  the  pope  is  by  some  words  of 
the  Fathers,  as  the  Greeks  said  in  a  council  (important  rule), 
but  by  the  actions  of  the  Church  and  the  Fathers,  and  by  the 
canons. 

LXX. 

The  pope  is  first.  What  other  is  known  by  all  ?  What 
other  is  recognized  by  all  ?  having  the  power  to  insinuate  into 
all  bodies,  because  he  holds  the  chief  branch  which  insinuates 
itself  everywhere  ?  How  easy  it  was  to  make  this  degenerate 
into  tyranny!  Therefore  JESUS  CHRIST  has  laid  down  for 
them  this  precept :  Vos  autem  non  sic. 

Unity  and  multitude  :  Duo  aut  tres  in  unum.  It  is  to  err 
to  exclude  one  of  the  two,  as  the  papists  do,  who  exclude  mul- 
titude, or  the  huguenots,  who  exclude  unity. 

LXXL 

There  is  heresy  in  always  explaining  omnes  by  all,  and 
heresy  in  not  explaining  it  sometimes  by  all.  Bibite  ex  ho< 


CHAPTER   XXTV.  381 

onines :  the  huguenots,  heretics,  in  explaining  it  by  all.    In 
quo  omnes  pecwverunt :  the  huguenots,  heretics,  in  excepting 
the  children  of  the  faithful.     It  is  necessary,  therefore,  to  fol- 
low the  Fathers  and  tradition  in  order  to  know  when,  sine 
there  is  heresy  to  be  feared  on  both  sides. 

LXXIL 

Every  thing  may  be  mortal  to  us,  even  the  things  made  to 
serve  us,  as,  in  nature,  the  walls  may  kill  us,  and  the  stairs 
may  kill  us,  if  we  do  not  walk  carefully. 

The  least  motion  is  of  importance  to  all  nature ;  the  entire 
sea  changes  for  a  stone.  So,  in  grace,  the  least  action  is  of 
importance  in  its  consequences  to  all.  Therefore,  every  thing 
is  important. 

In  every  action,  we  ought  to  consider,  besides  the  action, 
the  present,  past,  and  future  state  of  ourselves,  and  of  others  to 
whom  it  is  of  importance,  and  to  see  the  connection  of  all  these 
things.  And  then  we  shall  be  very  prudent. 

LXXIIL 

All  men  naturally  hate  each  other.  Men  have  used  as  they 
could,  human  passion,  in  order  to  make  it  subserve  the  public 
good.  But  this  is  only  dissimulation,  and  a  false  image  of 
charity ;  for  at  bottom  it  is  only  hatred. 

^[  This  vile  substratum  of  man,  this  figmentum  malum,  is 
only  covered,  it  is  not  removed, 

LXXIV. 

Those  who  say  that  man  is  too  insignificant  to  merit  com- 
munion with  God,  should  be  very  great  to  judge  of  it. 

LXXV. 

Man  is  not  worthy  of  God,  but  he  is  not  incapable  of  being 
made  worthy  of  him.  It  is  unworthy  of  God  to  unite  himself 
to  miserable  man  ;  but  it  is  not  unworthy  of  God  to  bring  man 
»ut  of  his  misery. 


382  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

LXXVL 

The  wretches  who  have  obliged  me  to  speak  of  the  basis  ol 
religion !  .  .  .  Sinners  purified  without  penitence,  the  just  jus- 
tified without  charity,  all  Christians  without  the  grace  of  JESUS 
CHRIST,  God  without  power  over  the  wills  of  men,  a  predesti- 
mtion  without  mystery,  a  Redemption  without  certainty! 

LXXVII. 

The  Church,  the  Pope. — Unity,  multitude.  In  considering 
the  Church  as  a  unity,  the  pope,  whoever  he  is,  is  the  head,  is 
as  it  were  the  whole.  In  considering  it  as  a  multitude,  the 
pope  is  only  a  part  of  it.  The  Fathers  have  considered  it 
sometimes  in  one  manner,  sometimes -in  the  other.  And  thus 
they  have  spoken  differently  of  the  pope.  Saint  Cyprian : 
Sacerdos  Dei.  But  in  establishing  one  of  these  two  truths 
they  have  not  excluded  the  other.  The  multitude  which  is 
not  reduced  to  the  unity  is  confusion ;  the  unity  which  does 
not  depend  on  the  multitude  is  tyranny.  There  is  scarcely  any 
country  but  France  where  it  is  permitted  to  say  that  the  coun- 
cil is  above  the  pope. 

LXXVIII. 

God  works  no  miracles  in  the  ordinary  government  of  his 
Church.  It  would  be  a  strange  miracle  indeed,  if  infallibility 
were  in  one;  but  that  it  may  be  in  the  multitude  appears  very 
natural,  since  the  government  of  God  is  concealed  under  nature, 
as  in  all  his  other  works. 

LXXIX. 

TJiat  ike  Christian  religion  is  not  the  only  one. — So  far  from 
this  being  a  reason  for  believing  that  it  is  not  the  true  one,  on 
the  contrary,  it  is  what  makes  us  see  that  it  is. 

LXXX. 

If  it  were  necessary  to  do  nothing  but  for  the  certain,  we 
should  do  nothing  for  religion ;  for  it  is  not  certain.  But  ho\» 
many  things  we  do  for  the  uncertain,  as  sea-voyages,  battles 


CHAPTER   XXIV.  383 

I  say,  therefore,  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  do  nothing  at 
all ;  for  nothing  is  certain ;  and  that  there  is  mere  certainty  in 
religion  than  that  we  shall  see  to-morrow  :  for  it  is  not  certain 
that  we  shall  see  to-morrow,  but  it  is  certainly  possible  that 
we  may  not  see  it.  We  cannot  say  as  much  of  religion.  It 
is  not  certain  that  it  is ;  but  who  will  dare  to  say  that  it  is 
certainly  possible  that  it  is  not  ?  Now,  when  we  work  for  to- 
morrow, and  for  the  uncertain,  we  act  with  reason.  For  we 
ought  to  work  for  the  uncertain,  by  the  rule  of  chance  which 
has  been  demonstrated. 

LXXXI. 

All  good  maxims  are  in  the  world :  we  need  only  to  appl/ 
them.  For  example,  we  do  not  doubt  that  we  should  expose 
our  lives  for  the  defence  of  the  public  good,  and  many  do  it ; 
but  for  religion,  not  one. 

LXXXIL 

There  are  some  vices  which  adhere  to  us  only  because  ot 
others,  and  which,  when  the  trunk  is  removed,  fall  away  like 
branches. 

LXXXIII. 

"When  malignity  has  reason  on  its  side,  it  becomes  proud,  and 
displays  reason  in  all  its  lustre  :  when  austerity,  or  a  severe 
choice,  has  not  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  true  good,  and  when 
it  is  necessary  to  return  to  nature,  she  becomes  proud  because 
of  this  return. 

LXXXIV. 

Evil  is  easy,  there  is  an  infinity  of  evils ;  good,  almost  alone. 
But  a  certain  kind  of  evil  is  almost  as  difficult  to  find  as  what 
we  call  good ;  and,  on  this  account,  this  particular  evil  often 
passes  for  good.  It  is  necessary  to  have  even  an  extraordinary 
greatness  of  soul  to  reach  it,  as  well  as  the  good. 

LXXXV. 

The  nature  of  man  is  not  to  go  always ;  it  has  its  goings 
»nd  its  comings.  Fever  has  its  cold  and  its  hot  fits,  and  the 


384  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

cold  shows  as  well  the  great  ardor  of  the  fever,  as  the  heat  it- 
Belf.  Just  so  men's  inventions  advarice  from  age  to  age.  The 
goodness  and  the  wickedness  of  the  world  in  general  remain 
the  same :  Plerumque  gratce  principibus  vices. 

LXXXVI. 

He  is  made  a  priest  who  wishes  to  be,  as  under  Jeroboam. 
It  is  a  horrible  thing  to  propose  to  us  the  discipline  of  the 
Church  of  to-day,  as  so  good  that  it  is  made  a  crime  to  wish 
to  change  it.  Formerly,  she  was  infallibly  good,  and  we  find 
that  she  might  be  changed  without  sin ;  and  now,  such  as  she 
is,  we  cannot  desire  to  change  her !  It  has  indeed  been  per- 
mitted to  change  the  custom  of  making  priests  only  with  so 
much  circumspection,  that  there  were  scarcely  any  who  were 
worthy  of  being  priests ;  and  it  is  not  permitted  to  complain 
of  the  custom  which  makes  so  many  that  are  unworthy ! 

LXXXVII. 

Children  who  are  scared  at  the  face  which  they  have  them- 
selves bedaubed,  are  children ;  but  how  is  it  that  he  who  is  so 
weak  as  a  child  is  so  strong  in  maturer  years  ?  We  only 
change  our  fancy. 

Lxxxvni. 

It  is  incomprehensible  that  God  is,  and  incomprehensible1 
that  he  is  not ;  that  the  soul  is  in  the  body,  that  we  have  no 
soul;  that  the  world  is  created,  that  it  is  not  created,  etc.; 
that  original  sin  is,  and  that  it  is  not. 

LXXXIX. 

The  atheists  ought  to  say  things  perfectly  clear ;  now,  it  ii 
not  perfectly  clear  that  the  soul  is  material. 

'  "  We  can  only  justly  conceive  God,"  says  St.  Cyprian,  "  in  recognizing 
kirn  to  be  inconceivable." — "  Si  enim  comprehendis,"  says  St.  Augustine 
(Sermo  clxv),  "  non  est  Deus.  Sit  pia  confessio  ignorantise  magis  quam 
lemeraria  professio  scientise.  Adtingere  aliquantum  mente  Deum,  rmigtia 
l«atitu«lo  est;  comprehendere  autem,  oinnino  impossibile," — Ed. 


CHAPTER   XXIV.  385 

xc. 

Unbelievers,  the  most  credulous.  They  believe  the  mira- 
cles of  Vespasian,  in  order  not  to  believe  those  of  Moses. 

XCI. 

To  write  against  those  who  examine  the  sciences  too  much. 
Descartes. 

^[  [It  should  be  said  in  general :  This  is  made  by  figure 
and  motion,  for  this  is  true.  But  to  say  which,  and  to  com- 
pose the  machine,  this  is  ridiculous ;  for  this  is  useless,  and 
uncertain  and  laborious.  And  even  if  this  were  true,  we  do 
not  esteem  all  philosophy  as  worth  an  hour's  trouble.] 

XCIL 

Atheism  indicates1  force  of  mind,  but  to  a  certain  degree 
only. 

XCIIL 

The  faults  of  Montaigne  are  great.  Lascivious  words.  This 
is  worth  nothing,  notwithstanding  Mademoiselle  de  Gournay. 
Credulous  (people  without  eyes).  Ignorant  (quadrature  of 
the  circle,  a  larger  world).  His  sentiments  on  voluntary 
homicide,  on  death.  He  inspires  an  indifference  in  regard  to 
salvation,  "  without  fear  and  without  repentance."  His  book 
not  being  made  to  inculcate  piety,  he  was  not  obliged  to  do 
it :  but  we  are  always  under  obligation  not  to  lead  men  away 
from  piety.  We  can  excuse  his  somewhat  liberal  and  volup- 
tuous sentiments  in  relation  to  some  of  the  accidents  of  life ; 
but  we  cannot  excuse  his  wholly  pagan  sentiments  in  rela- 
tion to  death ;  for  we  must  renounce  all  piety,  if  we  do  not 
wish  "to  die  at  least  in  a  Christian  manner :  now,  throughout 
his  whole  book,  he  thinks  only  of  dying  basely  and  effeminately.1 

1  All  the  editions  made  before  the  Report  of  M.  Consin  read :  lack* 
force  of  mind.  Here,  as  in  many  other  passages,  the  editors  make  Pascal 
lay  precisely  the  contrary  of  what  he  wrote. 

1  Pascal  surpassed  Montaigne  neither  in  frankness  nor  in  imagination. 
Ho  surpassed  him  in  depth,  in  Jintsse.  in  sub'imity,  in  vehemence.  li« 

17 


386  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 


XCIV. 

The  arithmetical  machine  produces  results  which  approach 
nearer  to  thought  than  all  that  animals  do ;  but  it  does  notn- 
ing  that  CDuld  lead  us  to  suppose  that  it  has  a  will,  like  the 
animals. 

XCV. 

Certain  authors,  speaking  of  their  works,  say :  My  book, 
my  commentary,  my  history,  etc.  They  betray  their  vulgarity 
who  have  just  got  a  house  over  their  heads,  and  have  always 
"  my  house"  at  their  tongue's  end.  It  would  be  better  to  say : 
Our  book,  our  commentary,  our  history,  etc.,  seeing  that,  ordi- 
narily, there  is  more  in  it  that  belongs  to  others  than  to  them- 
selves. 

XCVL 

Eloquence  is  an  art  of  saying  things  in  such  a  manner  that, 
1'.  Those  to  whom  we  speak  may  hear  them  without  pain,  and 
with  pleasure ;  2°.  That  they  may  feel  interested  in  them,  so 
that  self-love  may  make  them  more  willing  to  reflect  on  them. 
It  consists  then,  in  a  correspondence  which  we  endeavor  to 
establish  between  the  mind  and  the  heart  of  those  to  whom 
we  speak  on  the  one  side,  and  the  thoughts  and  expressions 
of  which  we  make  use,  on  the  other ;  which  supposes  that  we 
have  studied  well  the  human  heart  in  order  to  know  all  its 
springs,  and  then  to  find  the  just  proportions  of  the  discourses 
that  we  wish  to  adapt  to  this  end.  We  must  put  ourselves  in 
the  place  of  those  who  are  to  hear  us,  and  make  trial  on  our 
own  heart  of  'the  turn  that  we  give  to  our  discourse,  in  order 
to  see  whether  the  one  is  made  for  the  other,  and  whether  we 
can  be  certain  that  the  hearer  will,  as  it  were,  be  compelled  to 

carried  to  perfection  the  eloquence  of  art,  of  which  Montaigne  was  almost 
entirely  ignorant,  and  he  has  not  been  equalled  in  that  vigor  of  genius  by 
wnich  the  points  of  a  discourse  are  brought  together  and  summed  up ; 
bat  the  warmth  and  vivacity  of  his  mind  could  lead  him  into  errors,  o1 
which  the  firm  and  moderate  genius  of  Montaigne  was  not  as  susceptible.— 
Vauvtnargutt. 


CHAPTER   XXIV.  887 

surrender.  We  ought  to  confine  ourselves,  as  much  as  possi- 
ble, to  the  simple  and  natural ;  not  making  great  what  is  little, 
nor  little  what  is  great.  It  is  not  sufficient  that  a  thing  be 
beautiful,  it  must  be  adapted  to  the  subject,  there  must  be 
nothing  superfluous,  nothing  wanting. 

^[  Eloquence  is  a  painting  of  thought;  and  thus,  those 
who,  after  having  painted  it,  still  add  to  it,  make  a  picture, 
instead  of  a  portrait. 

XCVII. 

It  is  necessary  to  have  a  reserved  thought,  and  to  judge  of 
every  thing  by  that,  while  speaking  however  like  the  people.1 

xcvm. 

Force  is  the  queen  of  the  world,  and  not  opinion;  but 
opinion  is  that  which  uses  force. 

^[  Men  consult  only  the  ear,  because  they  lack  heart. 

^[  We  ought,  in  every  dialogue  or  discourse,  to  be  able  to 
say  to  those  who  take  offence  at  it :  Of  what  do  you  com- 
plain ? 

>  This  means,  simply,  that  it  is  necessary  to  have  a  profound  and  dis- 
tinct reason  for  that  of  which  the  people  have  a  confused  good  sense,  and 
in  speaking  like  the  people,  to  know  better  than  they  why  we  say  it.— 


388  PASCAL. — THOUGHTS 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

THOUGHTS  PUBLISHED  SINCE  1848. 

L 

WHKN  our  passions  lead  us  to  do  any  thing,  we  forgot  our 
duty.  As  one  having  a  book  reads  it,  when  he  should  be 
doing  something  else.  But,  in  order  to  be  mindful  of  duty,  it 
is  requisite  that  one  should  propose  to  himself  to  do  something 
that  he  dislikes ;  and  then  he  excuses  himself  upon  the  ground 
that  he  has  something  else  to  do,  and  is  reminded  of  his  duty 
by  this  means. 

n. 

What  irregularity  of  judgment,  by  which  there  is  no  person 
who  does  not  put  himself  above  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  and 
who  does  not  love  more  his  own  good,  and  the  continuance  of 
his  happiness,  and  of  his  life,  than  that  of  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  I 

in. 

There  are  plants  on  the  earth ;  we  see  them ;  from  the  moon 
they  would  not  be  seen.  And  on  these  plants,  down ;  and  in 
this  down,  minute  animals :  but  after  that,  nothing  more. — O 
presumptuous! — The  mixed  are  composed  of  elements;  the 
elements  not.  0  presumptuous !  Here  is  a  delicate  feature. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  say  that  there  is  something  that  is  not 
seen ;  it  is  therefore  necessary  to  speak  like  others,  but  not  to 
think  like  them. 

IV. 

. . .  Not  only  do  we  look  at  things  on  other  sides,  but  witL 
other  eyes  :  we  do  not  take  care  to  find  them  similar. 


CHAPTER   XXV.  389 

V. 

Sneezing  absorbs  all  the  faculties  of  the  soul,  as  well  as  be- 
getting ;  but  we  do  not  draw  the  same  consequences  from  it 
against  the  greatness  of  man,  because  it  is  against  his  will. 
And  although  he  does  it  himself,  yet,  it  is  against  his  will 
that  he  does  it ;  it  is  not  in  view  of  the  thing  itself,  it  is  for 
another  object;  and  therefore  it  is  not  an  indication  of  the 
weakness  of  man,  and  of  his  subjection  under  this  action. 

VI. 

It  is  not  shameful  for  man  to  succumb  under  pain,  and  it 
is  shameful  for  him  to  succumb  under  pleasure.  This  does 
not  arise  from  the  fact  that  pain  comes  to  us  from  without  and 
that  we  seek  pleasure ;  for  we  may  seek  pain  and  succumb  to 
it  designedly,  without  this  kind  of  baseness.  Whence  comes 
it,  then,  that  it  is  glorious  for  the  reason  to  succumb  under  the 
effort  of  pain,  and  that  it  is  shameful  for  it  to  succumb  under 
the  effort  of  pleasure  ?  The  reason  is,  that  it  is  not  pain  that 
tempts  us  and  attracts  us.  It  is  ourselves  who  voluntarily 
choose  it  and  wish  it  to  have  dominion  over  us ;  so  that  we 
are  masters  of  the  thing ;  and  in  this  it  is  man  that  succumbs 
to  himself :  but  in  pleasure,  it  is  man  who  succumbs  to  pleas- 
nre.  Now  it  is  only  freedom  and  empire  that  give  glory,  and 
only  servitude  that  gives  shame. 

vn. 

Those  who,  in  troublesome  affairs,  have  always  good  hope, 
an.'  are  rejoiced  at  happy  adventures,  if  they  are  not  equally 
afflicted  at  unhappy  ones,  are  suspected  of  being  very  glad  at 
the  loss  of  the  affair,  and  are  delighted  to  find  these  pretexts 
of  hope,  in  order  to  show  that  they  are  interested  therein,  and 
to  cover  by  the  joy  that  they  feign  to  feel  that  which  they 
•eally  have  at  seeing  the  affair  lost. 

vm. 

Our  nature  is  in  movement ;  entire  repose  is  death. 


59C 


PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 


IX. 


"We  know  ourselves  so  little  that  many  think  they  are  going 
to  die,  when  they  are  well,  and  many  think  they  are  well, 
when  they  are  near  dying,  not  feeling  the  fever  near,  or  the 
abscess  ready  to  form. 


Nature  always  begins  again  the  same  things,  years,  days, 
hours ;  just  so  space  touches  space,  and  number  follows  num- 
ber without  break.  Thus  is  made  a  species  of  infinite  and 
eternal.  Not  that  there  is  in  all  this  any  thing  that  is  infinite 
and  eternal,  but  these  determinate  beings  are  infinitely  multi- 
plied ;  thus  it  seems  to  me,  there  is  nothing  infinite  but  the 
number  that  multiplies  them. 

XI. 

When  it  is  said  that  heat  is  only  the  motion  of  some  glob- 
ules, and  light  the  conatus  recedendi  that  we  feel,  this  aston- 
ishes us.  What  ?  that  pleasure  is  nothing  else  than  the  dance 
of  the  spirits  ?  What  a  different  idea  we  have  conceived  of  it ! 
and  these  sentiments  seem  to  us  so  far  from  those  others  which 
we  affirm  to  be  the  same  as  those  that  we  compare  with  them  i 
The  feeling  of  fire,  that  heat  which  affects  us  in  quite  another 
uaanner  than  touch,  the  reception  of  sound,  and  light, — all  this 
appears  to  us  mysterious,  and  yet  this  is  as  palpable  as  a  blow 
from  a  stone.  It  is  true  that  the  littleness  of  the  spirits  which 
enter  the  pores  touch  other  nerves,  but  they  are  always  nerves 
touched. 

XII. 

If  an  animal  did  by  mind  what  it  does  by  instinct,  and  if 
t  spoke  by  mind  what  it  speaks  by  instinct,  for  the  chase, 
and  for  informing  its  comrades  that  the  prey  is  found  or  lost; 
"t  would  speak  also  of  things  wherein  it  has  more  affection,  as 
to  say :  Gnaw  this  rope  that  wounds  me,  and  which  I  cannot 
reach. 


CHAPTER   XXV.  391 

xm. 

We  do  not  maintain  ourselves  in  virtue  by  our  own  strength, 
but  by  the  counterpoise  of  two  opposing  vices,  as  we  remain 
standing  between  two  contrary  winds :  remove  one  of  these 
vices,  we  fall  into  the  other. 

XIV. 

They  say  that  eclipses  presage  misfortune,  because  misfor- 
tunes are  common ;  so  that  evil  happens  so  often,  that  the} 
divine  often ;  whilst  if  they  said  that  they  presage  happiness, 
they  would  lie  often.  They  ascribe  happiness  only  to  rare 
conjunctions  in  the  heavens ;  thus  they  very  seldom  fail  to 
divine. 

XV. 
Memory  is  necessary  for  all  the  operations  of  the  mind. 

XVI. 
Instinct  and  reason,  marks  of  two  natures. 

xvn. 

When  I  consider  the  brief  duration  of  my  life,  absorbed  it. 
the  eternity  preceding  and  following ;  the  small  space  that  J 
fill,  and  even  that  I  see,  swallowed  up  in  the  infinite  immensity 
of  spaces  that  I  am  ignorant  of,  and  which  are  ignorant  of  me, 
I  am  frightened,  and  astonished  at  seeing  myself  here  rather 
than  there ;  for  there  is  no  reason  why  here  rather  than  there, 
why  at  present  rather  than  then.  Who  has  put  me  here  ?  by 
the  order  and  government  of  whom  has  this  place  and  time 
been  destined  for  me? — Memoria  hospitis  unius  diei  prceto- 
'euntis. 

xvm. 

How  many  kingdoms  are  ignorant  of  us ! 

^T  The  eternal  silence  of  these  infinite  spaces  terrifies  me. 


PASCAL.  —  THOUGHTS. 


YTY. 

I  envy  those  whom  I  see  in  the  faith  live  with  so  much  neg- 
ligence, who  use  so  badly  a  gift,  of  which  it  seems  to  me  I 
would  make  a  very  different  use. 


Each  is  a  whole  to  himself,  for  he  being  dead,  the  whole  is 
dead  for  him.  Hence  it  comes  that  each  believes  himself  to 
be  a  whole  to  all.  We  must  not  judge  of  nature  according  to 
ourselves,  but  according  to  her. 

XXT. 

The  ordinary  world  has  the  power  of  not  thinking  about 
what  it  does  not  wish  to  think  about.  Do  not  think  of  the 
passages  of  the  Messiah,  said  the  Jew  to  his  son.  Thus  often 
do  ours.  Thus  are  the  false  religions  preserved  ;  and  even  the 
true,  with  respect  to  many  people.  But  there  are  those  who 
have  not  the  power  thus  to  refrain  from  thinking,  and  who 
think  the  more,  the  more  they  are  forbidden  to  think.  These 
rid  themselves  of  false  religions  ;  and  of  the  true  even,  if  they 
find  no  solid  arguments  in  its  favor. 

XXIL 

What  a  distance  there  is  between  the  knowledge  of  God 
and  loving  him  ! 

XXIIL 

Art  thou  less  a  slave  for  being  loved  and  flattered  than  thy 
master  ?  Thou  art  well  off,  slave  :  thy  master  flatters  thee, 
He  will  beat  thee  presently. 

XXIV. 

It  is  not  in  Montaigne,  but  in  myself,  that  I  find  what  I  see 
in  him.1 

1  Pascal  does  not  always  treat  Montaigne  as  greatly  as  in  the  interview 
with  M.  de  Sacy  :  he  insults  him  and  repeats  him  ;  he  would  fain  make 
_im  contemptible:  "  He  is  fiM  of  filthy  and  discourteous  word*  ....  Tht 
foolich  project  that  Montaigne  had  of  painting  himself  !  .  .  .  .  "  Then, 


OHAPTEB   XXV  393 

XXV. 

Ennui. — Nothing  is  so  insupportable  to  man  as  to  be  in 
complete  repose,  without  passion,  without  occupation,  without 
diversion,  without  application.  He  then  feels  his  nothingness, 
his  abandonment,  his  insufficiency,  his  impotence,  his  vacuity. 
Incontinently  will  issue  from  the  bottom  of  his  soul  ennui,  base- 
ness, sadness,  chagrin,  spite,  despair. 

^J"  Agitation. — When  a  soldier  complains  of  his  painful  toil, 
or  a  laborer,  etc.,  let  him  be  left  without  any  thing  to  do. 

XXVI. 

Man  does  not  act  by  reason,  which  makes  his  being. 

XXVII. 

Baseness  of  man  even  to  submitting  himself  to  the  brutes, 
even  to  adoring  them. 

XXVIII. 

All  their  principles  are  true,  Pyrrhonists,  Stoics,  Atheists, 
etc.  But  their  conclusions  are  false,  because  the  opposite 
principles  are  also  true. 

XXIX. 

Philosophers  have  consecrated  the  vices,  by  putting  them  in 
God  himself;  Christians  have  consecrated  the  virtues. 

XXX. 

Immateriality  of  the  soul.  The  philosophers  who  have 
ruled  their  passions, — what  matter  has  been  able  to  do  this  ? 

almost  immediately,  he  returns  to  him :  "  Custom  ought  to  be  followed  .  .  .  .  " 
Or  again,  what  is  more  formal  and  escapes  him  :  "  What  Montaigne  has  of 
good  can  be  acquired  only  with  difficulty ;  what  he  has  of  bad  (except  in 
morals)  might  have  been  corrected  in  a  moment,  if  he  had  been  warned 
tl  at  he  was  telling  too  many  stories  and  was  speaking  too  much  of  him- 
self." And  elsewhere  he  all  at  once  speaks  of  hini  as  the  incnmjjarablt 
tut/ior  of  the  art  of  discussing  ....  It  might  be  said  that  Pascal,  during 
bis  whole  life,  did,  and  wished  to  do,  but  two  things — relentlessly  conibai 
the  Jesuits  in  the  P/vvinciales,  ruin  and  annihilate  Montaigne  in  th« 

no 


394  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

XXXL 

A  fine  thing  to  proclaim  to  a  man  that  knows  not  himself 
that  he  go  from  himself  to  God !  And  a  fine  thing  to  tell  this 
to  a  man  who  does  know  himself! 

XXXII. 

Search  for  the  true  good. — The  commonalty  of  men  put  the 
good  in  fortune  and  external  goods,  or  at  least  in  diversion. 
Philosophers  have  shown  the  vanity  of  all  this,  and  have  put 
it  where  they  could. 

*f  For  the  philosophers'  288  sovereign  goods. 

^  Ut  sis  contentus  temetipso  et  ex  te  nascentibua  bonis. 
There  is  contradiction,  for,  in  fine,  they  counsel  the  killing  of 
one  another.  Oh  !  what  a  happy  life,  from  which  one  delivers 
himself  as  from  a  plague ! 

^[  It  is  good  to  be  wearied  and  fatigued  by  uselessly  seeking 
the  true  good,  in  order  to  extend  the  arms  to  the  liberator. 

XXXIII. 

Good  heavens!  what  foolish  speeches  are  these:  "Would 
God  have  made  the  world  in  order  to  damn  it  ?  would  he  de- 
mand so  many  weak  people  ?"  etc.  Pyrrhonism  is  a  remedy 
for  this  evil,  and  will  beat  down  this  vanity. 

XXXIV. 

Will  it  be  affirmed  that,  because  it  is  said  that  justice  is  a 
part  of  the  earth,  men  have  known  original  sin  ?  Nemo  ante 
obitum  beatm  est.  Is  this  saying  that  they  have  known  that 
at  death  the  eternal  and  essential  beatitude  begins  ? 

XXXV. 

Good  sense. — They  are  constrained  to  say :  You  do  not  act 
m  good  faith ;  we  ought  not,  etc.  How  I  love  to  see  this 

1  "  There  is  no  combat  so  violent  among  the  philosophers,  and  so  bittei 
u  tbat  in  regard  to  the  question  of  the  sovereign  good  of  man ;  from 
which,  by  the  calculation  of  Varro,  sprang  two  hundred  and  eighty -eigh» 
•ecta.'  — Montaigne. 


CHAPTER   XXV.  395 

proud  reason  humbled  and  suppliant!  For  this  is  not  the 
language  of  a  man  whose  right  is  contested,  and  who  defends 
it  by  force  of  arms.  He  does  not  amuse  himself  by  saying 
that  we  do  not  act  in  good  faith,  but  he  punishes  this  bad  faith 
by  force. 

XXXVI. 

Ecclesiastes  shows  that  man  without  God  is  in  ignorance 
of  every  thing,  and  in  inevitable  misery.  For  it  is  to  be  mis- 
erable to  wish  and  be  powerless.  Now,  he  wishes  to  be  happy 
and  assured  of  some  truth,  and  yet  he  can  neither  know  nor 
desire  not  to  know.  He  cannot  even  doubt. 

XXXVII. 

We  are  under  much  obligation  to  those  who  tell  us  of  our 
faults,  for  they  mortify.  They  teach  us  that  we  have  been 
despised ;  they  do  not  prevent  us  from  being  despised  in  the 
future,  for  we  have  many  other  faults  to  make  us  despised 
They  prepare  for  the  exercise  of  correction,  and  exemption 
from  fault. 

XXXVIII. 

No  sect  or  religion  but  the  Christian  has  always  been  on 
the  earth. 

^[  There  is  only  the  Christian  religion  that  renders  a  man 
at  the  same  time  amiable  and  happy.  In  virtue,  we  cannot  be 
at  the  same  time  amiable  and  happy. 

XXXIX. 

Faith  is  a  gift  of  God.  Do  not  think  that  we  said  that  it  is 
a  gift  of  reasoning.  Other  religions  do  not  say  this  of  their 
faith ;  they  give  only  reasoning  as  the  means  of  rea«hing  it, 
which  nevertheless  does  not  lead  to  it. 

XL. 

The  figures  of  the  totality  of  redemption,  as  that  the  sun 
hines  for  all,  indicate  only  one  totality  ;  but  the  figures  of  ex- 


PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

elusions,  as  of  the  Jews  elected  to  the  exclusion  of  the  Gen- 
tiles, indicate  the  exclusion. 

"  JESUS  CHRIST,  the  Saviour  of  all." — Yes,  for  he  has  made 
an  offering  for  all ;  as  a  man  who  has  redeemed  all  those  who 
are  willing  to  come  to  him.  Those  who  die  on  the  way,  it  is 
their  misfortune  ;  but  as  for  him,  he  offered  them  redemption. 
This  is  good  in  this  example,  where  he  who  redeems,  and  he 
who  preserves  us  from  death  are  two,  but  not  indeed  in  JESUS 
CHRIST,  who  does  both.  No,  for  JESUS  CHRIST,  in  the  quality 
of  redeemer,  is  not,  perhaps,  master  of  all ;  and  thus,  in  so  far 
as  it  is  in  him,  he  is  the  redeemer  of  all. 


XLI. 

The  prophecies  cited  in  the  Gospel  you  think  are  reported 
in  order  to  make  you  believe.  No,  it  is  to  make  you  averse 
to  believing. 

Miracles  do  not  serve  to  convert  but  to  condemn. 


XLIL 

Even  had  Epictetus  seen  the  way  perfectly  well,  he  would 
have  said  to  men  :  You  follow  a  false  way  ;  he  shows  that 
there  is  another,  but  he  does  not  lead  to  it.  That  way  is  to 
will  what  God  wills;  JESUS  CHRIST  alone  leads  to  it:  Fm, 
veritas. 

XLHI. 

I  regard  JESUS  CHRIST  in  all  persons,  and  in  ourselves. 
I~ESUS  CHRIST  as  father  in  his  Father,  JESUS  CHRIST  as  brother 
in  his  brethren,  JESUS  CHRIST  as  poor  in  the  poor,  JESUS  CHRIST 
as  rich  in  the  rich,  JESUS  CHRIST  as  doctor  and  priest  in  the 
oriests,  JESUS  CHRIST  as  sovereign  in  princes,  etc.  For,  being 
jlod,  all  his  greatness  is  by  his  own  glory,  and  all  that  is  mis- 
erable and  abject  in  him  is  by  his  mortal  life  ;  therefore,  he 
has  taken  this  pitiable  condition,  in  order  to  be  able  to  be  in 
til  persona,  and  to  be  a  model  of  all  conditions. 


CHAPTER  XXV.  397 

XLIV. 

The  psalms  sung  by  the  whole  earth. 

Who  testifies  of  Mahomet  ?  Himself.  JESUS  CHRIST  wishe* 
that  his  testimony  may  be  nothing. 

The  quality  of  witnesses  makes  it  necessary  that  they  phou'd 
be  always  and  everywhere,  and,  miserable  wretch,  he  is  alone.1 

XLV. 

It  is  not  seldom  that  it  is  necessary  to  chide  the  world  for 
too  much  docility ;  it  is  a  natural  vice  like  incredulity,  and  as 
pernici«  us.  Superstition. 

XLVI. 

There  are  few  true  Christians,  I  say,  even  in  faith.  There 
are  many  who  believe,  but  through  superstition  ;  there  are 
many  who  do  not  believe,  but  through  free-thinking :  there  are 
few  between  the  two. 

I  do  not  mean  to  include  those  who  are  in  real  piety  of 
living,  and  those  who  believe  through  a  sentiment  of  the  heart. 

•  XLVII. 

Those  who  do  not  love  the  truth  make  a  pretext  of  the  con- 
testation of  the  multitude  of  those  who  deny  it,  and  thus  their 
error  comes  only  from  the  fact  that  they  do  not  love  truth  or 
°harity ;  and,  therefore,  they  are  not  excused. 

XLVIII. 

So  far  from  the  having  heard  a  thing  said  being  the  rule  of 
your  belief,  you  ought  to  believe  nothing  without  putting 
yourself  in  the  condition  as  if  you  never  had  heard  it.  It  is 
Vhe  consent  of  yourself  to  yourself  and  the  constant  voice  of 
your  reason,  and  not  of  others,  that  ought  to  make  you 
believe. 

i  "  He  is  alone."— Mahomet. 


S98  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

To  believe  is  so  important!  A  hundred  contradictioni 
might  be  true. 

If  antiquity  was  the  rule  of  belief,  the  ancients  were  there 
fore  without  a  rule.  If  the  general  consent ;  if  men  had  per- 
shed? 

False  humility,  pride.  Raise  the  curtain.  It  is  in  vain  ;  we 
nust  either  believe,  or  deny,  or  doubt.  Shall  we  then  have 
no  rule?  We  judge  of  animals  that  they  do  well  whatever 
they  do:  shall  there  be  no  rule  whereby  to  judge  men?  To 
deny,  to  believe,  and  to  doubt  well,  are  to  man  what  running 
is  to  the  horse. 

XLIX. 

Our  religion  is  wise  and  foolish.  Wise,  because  it  is  the 
most  learned,  and  the  most  firmly  founded  in  miracles,  proph- 
ecies, etc.  Foolish,  because  it  is  not  all  this  that  makes  us  be 
of  it ;  this  certainly  condemns  those  who  are  not  of  it,  but 
it  does  not  make  those  believe  who  are.  What  makes  them 
believe  is  the  cross,  ne  evacuata  sit  crux.  And  thus  St.  Paul, 
who  came  in  wisdom  and  signs,  said  that  he  came  neither  in 
wisdom  nor  in  signs,  for  he  came  to  convert.  But  those  who 
come  only  to  convince  may  say  "that  they  come  in  wisdom  and 
signs. 

L. 

The  law  obligated  to  what  it  did  not  give.  Grace  gives  that 
to  which  it  does  not  obligate. 

LI. 

What  men,  by  their  greatest  learning  had  been  able  to 
Know,  this  religion  taught  to  their  children. 

in. 

How  I  hate  these  stupidities,  not  to  believe  in  the  Eucharist, 
ttc.  .  .  !  If  the  Gospel  is  true,  if  JESUS  CHRIST  is  God,  what 
difficulty  is  there  in  it? 


CHAPTER   XXV.  399 

LIII. 

The  just  man  acts  by  faith  in  the  smallest  things :  when  he 
reprimands  his  servants  he  wishes  their  conversion  by  the 
spirit  of  God,  and  prays  God  to  correct  them,  and  expects  as 
much  from  God  as  from  his  reprimands,  and  prays  God  to  bless 
his  corrections.  And  thus  in  other  actions. 

^[  Of  all  that  is  on  the  earth,  he  takes  part  only  in  the  sor- 
rows, not  in  the  pleasures.  He  loves  his  neighbors,  but  his 
charity  does  not  confine  itself  to  these  limits,  but  extends  itself 
to  his  enemies,  and  then  to  those  of  God. 

LIV. 

Why  God  has  established  prayer. — 1°.  In  order  to  commu- 
nicate to  his  creatures  the  dignity  of  causality.  2°.  In  order 
to  inform  us  from  whom  we  have  virtue.  3°.  In  order  to  make 
us  merit  the  other  virtues  by  labor. — Objection.  But  one 
would  think  that  we  are  indebted  for  prayer  to  ourselves. — 
This  is  absurd,  for  since,  having  faith,  we  cannot  have  the  vir- 
tues, how  could  we  have  faith  ?  Is  there  a  greater  distance 
from  infidelity  to  faith,  than  from  faith  to  virtue  ? 

^[  God  should  do  only  according  to  his  promises.  He  has 
promised  to  accord  justice  to  prayer :  he  has  never  promised 
prayer  but  to  the  children  of  the  promise. 

LV. 

M.  de  Roannez  said :  The  reasons  come  to  me  afterwards, 
but  at  first  the  thing  pleases  me  or  displeases  me  without 
snowing  the  cause,  and  yet  this  displeases  me  for  the  reason 
that  -I  discover  it  only  afterwards.  But  I  think,  not  that  the 
thing  displeased  for  the  reasons  that  we  find  afterwards,  bu 
that  we  find  the  reasons  only  because  the  thing  displeases. 

LVI. 

He  no  longer  loves  the  person  that  he  loved  ten  years  ago. 
i  believe  it ;  she  is  no  longer  the  same,  nor  he  either.  He 


100  PASCAL. —  THOTTOmo. 

was  young  and  she  also ;  she  is  altogether  different,    lie  would 
love  her  perhaps  still,  such  as  she  was  then 

LVIL 

Fear  death  out  of  danger,  and  not  in  danger,  for  it  is  neces- 
ary  to  be  a  man. 

^[  Sudden  death  alone  to  be  feared,  and  hence  confessora 
kept  by  the  great. 

LVHL 

We  should  know  ourselves :  even  if  this  did  not  serve  to 
discover  the  true,  it,  at  least,  serves  to  regulate  our  lives,  and 
nothing  is  more  just. 

LIX. 

How  I  hate  those  who  set  up  for  doubters  of  miraclee! 
Montaigne  speaks  as  he  should  of  them  in  two  places.  We 
see  in  one  how  prudent  he  is,  and  yet  in  the  other  he  be- 
lieves, and  laughs  at  the  incredulous. 

LX. 

When  we  wish  to  pursue  the  virtues  to  extremes  on  every 
side,  vices  appear,  and  insensibly  insinuate  themselves,  in  their 
insensible  courses,  from  the  side  of  the  infinitely  little ;  and 
they  appear,  too,  in  crowds  from  the  side  of  the  infinitely 
great,  so  that  we  lose  ourselves  in  the  vices,  and  no  longer  see 
the  virtues. 

LXI. 

Diversity. — Theology  is  a  science,  but  at  the  same  time  how 
many  sciences  are  there !  A  man  is  an  instrument :  but  if  we 
anatomize  him,  shall  it  be  the  head,  the  heart,  the  stomach, 
the  veins,  each  vein,  each  portion  of  a  vein,  the  blood,  each 
humor  of  the  blood  ? 

A  town,  a  country,  seen  from  a  distance  is  a  town  and  coun 
try ;  but  in  proportion  as  ve  approach,  they  become  houses, 


CHAPTER   XXV.  401 

.rees,  tiles,  leaves,  grass,  ants,  the  legs  of  ants,  ad  infinitum. 
All  this  is  comprehended  under  the  name  of  country. 

LXIL 

Two  sorts  of  people  compare  things,  as  the  holidays  to  the 
working  days,  the  Christians  to  the  priests,  all  the  sins  among 
themselves,  etc.  And  hence  some  conclude  that  what  is  there- 
fore bad  in  priests  is  also  bad  in  Christians ;  and  others,  that 
what  is  bad  in  Christians  is  permitted  in  priests. 

LXIH. 

Nature  imitates  herself.  A  seed,  thrown  into  good  ground, 
produces.  A  principle,  thrown  into  a  good  mind,  produces. 
Numbers  imitate  space,  which  are  of  such  a  different  nature. 
All  is  made  and  governed  by  the  same  Master :  root,  branch, 
fruits ;  principles,  consequences. 

LXIV. 

Admiration  spoils  everybody  from  childhood.  Oh !  how 
well  that  is  said !  how  handsome  he  is !  how  good  he  is !  etc. 
The  children  at  Port-Royal,  to  whom  this  incitement  to  envy 
and  glory  is  not  given,  fall  into  nonchalance. 

LXV. 

Experience  makes  us  see  a  wonderful  difference  between  de- 
votion and  goodness. 

LXVI. 

We  do  not  weary  of  eating  and  sleeping  every  day,  for  hun- 
ger and  sleep  revive  :  without  this  we  should  weary  of  them. 
Thus,  without  the  hunger  after  spiritual  things,  we  weary  01 
them.  Hunger  after  justice ;  eighth  beatitude. 

LXVIL 

There  are  only  two  sorts  of  men  :  the  one  the  just,  who  be- 
iieve  themselves  sinners ;  the  other  sinners,  who  believe  them 
•elves  just 


402  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

Lxvm. 

It  is  not  good  to  be  too  free.  It  is  not  good  to  have  all 
that  is  necessary. 

LXIX. 

The  hope  that  Christians  have  of  possessing  an  infinite  good, 
is  mixed  with  joy  as  well  as  fear ;  for  they  are  not  like  those 
who  hope  for  a  kingdom,  of  which  they  could  have  nothing 
(being  subjects) ;  but  they  hope  for  holiness,  exemption  from 
injustice,  and  they  have  something  of  these. 

LXX. 

Comminutum  cor.  ST.  PAUL.  Here  is  the  Christian  charac- 
ter. "Albe  has  named  you,  I  know  you  no  more." — COR- 
NEILLB.  Here  is  the  inhuman  character.  The  human  charac- 
ter is  the  contrary. 

LXXI. 

Symmetry  is  what  we  see  at  one  view.  Founded  on  this — 
that  there  is  no  reason  for  doing  otherwise.  And  founded  also 
on  the  figure  of  man,  whence  it  comes  that  we  wish  to  see 
symmetry  only  in  breadth,  not  in  height  or  depth. 

LXXII. 

Morals  and  language  are  special  sciences,  but  universal. 

LXXIII. 

. . .  Bat  it  is  impossible  that  God  should  ever  be  the  end,  if 
he  is  not  the  principle.  We  direct  our  view  above,  but  we 
rest  on  the  sand :  and  the  earth  will  melt  and  we  shall  fall 
looking  at  the  heavens. 

LXXIV. 

What  weariness  we  have  in  quitting  the  occupations  to 
which  we  have  become  attached  !  A  man  lives  with  pleasure 
in  his  own  house :  let  him  see  a  woman  that  pleases  him,  let 
him  nlay  five  or  six  days  with  pleasure ;  how  miserable  he  ii 


CHAPTER   XXV.  4:03 

if  he  returns  to  his  first  occupation.    Nothing  is  more  common 
than  this. 

LXXV. 

It  is  deplorable  to  see  all  men  deliberating  only  in  regard  to 
means,  and  not  in  regard  to  the  end.  Each  thinks  how  he 
will  acquit  himself  in  his  condition ;  but  as  for  the  choice  of 
condition  and  country,  lot  determines  it  for  us.  It  is  a  pitiable 
thing  to  see  so  many  Turks,  heretics,  infidels,  following  in  the 
track  of  their  fathers,  for  this  single  reason  that  they  have  been 
each  prepossessed  with  the  idea,  that  it  is  the  best.  And  this 
is  what  determines  each  to  each  calling,  as  that  of  a  locksmith, 
soldier,  etc.  This  is  why  the  savages  have  nothing  to  do  with 
Provence. 

LXXVI. 

Description  of  man.  Dependence,  the  desire  of  independ- 
ence, need. 

LXXVII. 

One  is  not  miserable  without  feeling.  A  ruined  house  ia 
not.  Man  alone  is  miserable.  Ego  vir  videns. 

LXXVIII. 

The  nature  of  man  is  all  nature,  omne  animal.  There  is 
nothing  that  we  make  natural;  we  destroy  the  natural  in 
every  thing. 

^[  The  true  nature  being  lost,  every  thing  becomes  his 
nature ;  as,  the  true  good  being  lost,  every  thing  becomes  his 
true  good. 

LXXIX. 

Jurisdiction  is  not  given  for  [the]  judge  but  for  the  judged. 
It  is  dangerous  to  tell  it  to  the  people  :  but  the  people  have 
too  much  faith  in  you ;  this  will  not  hurt  them,  and  may  serve 
you.  It  ought  then  to  be  publ'shed.  Pasce  oven  meas,  not 
iuas.  You  owe  me  food. 


404  PASCAL.  —  THOUGHTS. 


Wisdom  sends  as  to  childhood  :  nisi  effic*  mini  sicut  parvuli 

LXXXL 

The  true  religion  teaches  our  duties,  our  impotences  (pride 
and  concupiscence),  and  the  remedies  (humility,  mortification). 

LXXXH. 

The  Scripture  has  provided  passages  to  console  all  condi- 
tions, and  to  intimidate  all  conditions. 

Nature  seems  to  have  done  the  same  thing  by  its  two  infini- 
ties, natural  and  moral  :  for  we  shall  always  have  something  of 
the  superior  and  the  inferior,  of  the  most  able  and  the  least 
able,  of  the  most  exalted  and  the  most  miserable,  in  order  to 
abase  our  pride  and  to  raise  our  abjection. 

LXXXIIL 
The  eternal  Being  is  forever,  if  he  is  at  all. 

LXXXJV. 

The  corruption  of  the  reason  appears  by  so  many  different 
and  extravagant  manners.  It  was  necessary  that  the  truth 
should  come,  in  order  that  man  should  no  longer  live  in  him- 
self. 

LXXXV. 

Custom  is  our  nature.  Whoever  accustoms  himself  to  his 
faith,  believes  it,  and  believes  nothing  else,  and  can  no  longer 
fear  hell.  Whoever  accustoms  himself  to  believe  that  the  king 
is  terrible  .  .  .  .  ,  etc.  Who  doubts,  then,  that  our  soul,  being 
accustomed  to  see  number,  space,  motion,  believes  this  and 
uothing  but  this  ? 

LXXXVL 

Falsity  of  other  religions.     They  have  no  witnesses,  thes« 
have.     God  defies  other  religions  to  produce  such  mirks 
Isaiah  xliii,  9  ;  xliv,  8. 


CHAPTER  XXV.  405 

LXXXVIL 

The  two  oldest  books  in  the  world  are  Moses  and  Job,  the 
one  a  Jew,  the  other  a  pagan,  who  both  regard  JESUS  CHRIST 
as  their  common  centre  and  object :  Moses,  in  referring  the 
promises  of  God  to  Abraham,  Jacob,  etc.,  and  his  prophecies ; 
and  Job :  Quis  mihi  det  ut,  etc.  Scio  enim  quod  redemptor 
meus  vivit,  etc. 

Lxxxvm. 

I  should  not  be  a  Christian  without  the  miracles,  said  St. 
Augustine. 

^f  We  should  not  have  sinned  in  not  believing  JESUS  CHRIST 
without  the  miracles :  Vide  an  mentiar. 

^[  It  is  not  possible  to  believe  reasonably  against  the 
miracles. 

^[  Ubi  est  Deus  tuus  ?  The  miracles  show  it,  and  are  an 
elucidation. 

LXXXIX. 

For  religions,  it  is  necessary  to  be  sincere;  true  pagans, 
true  Jews,  true  Christians. 

XC. 

...The  true  Christians  obey  follies  nevertheless,  not  that 
they  respect  follies,  but  the  order  of  God,  who,  for  the  punish- 
ment of  men,  has  subjected  them  to  these  follies.  Omnis 
creatura  subjecta  est  vanitati,  Liberabitur. 

Thus  St.  Thomas  explains  the  passage  of  St.  James  in  regard 
to  the  preference  of  the  rich,  that,  if  they  do  it  not  in  the 
light  of  God,  they  forsake  the  order  of  religion. 

XCL 

Abraham  took  nothing  for  himself,  but  only  for  his  ser- 
rants;  thus  the  just  man  takes  nothing  in  tho  world  for  him- 
self, nor  the  world's  applause ;  out  only  for  his  passions,  ol 
which  he  serves  himself  as  a  master,  saying  to  the  one,  Go, 
And  [to  another],  Come.  Sub  te  erit  appetitus  tuus.  The  pas- 


406  PASCAL. THOUGHTS. 

sions  thus  ruled  are  virtues.  Avarice,  jealousy,  anger, — God 
himself  attributes  them  [to  himself] ;  they  are  virtues  as  well 
as  clemency,  pity,  constancy,  -which  are  also  passions.  We 
must  make  use  of  them  as  slaves,  leaving  them  their  food,  tak- 
ing care  that  the  soul  does  not  partake  of  it ;  for  when  the 
passions  are  masters,  they  are  vices,  and  then  they  give  to  the 
soul  their  food,  on  which  the  soul  feeds  and  is  poisoned. 

xcn. 

We  forsake  [God]  only  in  forsaking  charity.  Our  prayers 
are  abomination  before  God,  if  they  are  not  the  prayers  and 
the  virtues  of  JESUS  CHRIST.  And  our  sins  shall  never  be  the 
object  of  God's  mercy,  but  of  his  justice,  if  they  are  not  those 
of  JESUS  CHRIST.  He  has  adopted  our  sins,  and  has  admitted 
us  to  his  alliance  ;  for  the  virtues  are  peculiar  to  him,  and  sins 
foreign  to  him ;  and  the  virtues  are  foreign  to  us,  and  our  sins 
are  peculiar  to  us. 

Let  us  change  the  rule  that  we  have  taken  hitherto  to  judge 
of  what  is  good.  We  had  our  will  for  a  rule,  let  us  now  take 
the  will  of  God :  whatever  he  wills  is  for  us  good  and  just, 
whatever  he  does  not  will  is  bad  for  us. 

Whatever  God  does  not  will  is  prohibited.  The  sins  have 
been  prohibited  by  the  general  declaration  made  by  God  that 
they  are  contrary  to  his  will.  Other  things  that  he  has  left 
without  general  prohibition,  and  for  this  reason  are  said  to  be 
permitted,  are  nevertheless  not  always  permitted.  For,  when 
God  removes  any  thing  from  us,  and  by  the  event,  which  is  a 
manifestation  of  God's  will,  it  appears  that  God  does  not  wish 
that  we  should  have  a  thing,  it  is  then  forbidden  us  like  sin, 
since  the  will  of  God  is  that  we  should  have  the  one  no  more 
than  the  other.  There  is  this  sole  difference  between  these 
two  things, — that  it  is  certain  that  God  would  never  allow  sin, 
whilst  it  is  not  certain  that  he  would  not  allow  the  other 
But  as  long  as  God  does  not  will  it,  we  should  regard  it  as 
sin ;  as  long  as  the  absence  of  God's  will,  which  alone  is  the 
whole  of  goodness  and  justice,  renders  it  unjust  and  bad. 


CHAPTER   XXV.  407 

xcm. 

"  I  have  reserved  to  myself  seven  thousand." '  I  love  the 
worsl uppers  that  are  unknown  to  the  world,  and  even  to  the 
prophets. 

XCTV. 

Men  not  having  been  accustomed  to  form  merit,  but  only 
to  reward  it  when  they  find  it  already  formed,  judge  of  God 
by  themselves. 

xcv. 

. .  I  should  certainly  have  taken  this  discourse  of  order  as 
the  following :  to  show  the  vanity  of  all  sorts  of  conditions,  to 
show  the  vanity  of  common  lives,  and  then  the  vanity  of  philo- 
sophic lives  (Pyrrhonists,  Stoics) ;  but  order  would  not  be  pre- 
served. I  know  a  little  what  it  is,  and  how  few  people  under- 
stand it.  No  human  science  can  preserve  it.  St.  Thomas  has 
not  preserved  it.  The  mathematics  preserve  it,  but  they  are 
useless  in  their  profundity. 

XCVI. 

My  friend,  you  have  been  born  on  this  side  of  the  mountain ; 
it  is  therefore  just  that  your  elder  brother  have  every  thing. 

xcvn. 

We  implore  the  mercy  of  God,  not  that  he  may  leave  us  in 
our  sins,  but  that  he  may  deliver  us  from  them. 

xcvm. 

If  God  gave  us  masters  from  his  own  hand,  oh !  with  what 
good  heart  should  we  obey  them !  Necessity  and  events  are 
such  infallibly. 

1  "  I  have  reserved  to  myself  seven  thousand  men  in  Israel,  who  have 
act  bowed  the  knc*  to  Baal." 


408  PASCAL. —  THOUGHTS. 

XCIX. 

Eritis  sicut  dii,  scientes  bonum  et  malum.  All  the  world 
plays  the  god  in  judging.  This  is  good  or  bad ;  and  being 
afflicted  or  rejoicing  too  much  at  events. 

C. 

To  do  little  things  like  great  ones,  on  account  of  the  majes- 
ty of  JESUS  CHRIST  who  does  them  in  us,  and  who  lives  our 
life ;  and  great  things  like  things  little  and  easy,  on  account 
of  his  omnipotence. 


LETTERS  AND  OPUSCULES. 


LETTERS  OF  PASCAL. 


FROM  PASCAL  TO  HIS  SISTER  JACQUELINE. 

JANCAET  26,  1648. 
MY  DEAR  SISTER, 

We  have  received  your  letters.  I  intended  to  reply 
to  the  first  that  you  wrote  me  more  than  four  months  since, 
but  my  indisposition  and  some  other  things  prevented  me. 
Since  then  I  have  not  been  in  a  condition  to  write,  either  on 
account  of  my  illness,  for  want  of  leisure,  or  for  some  other 
reason.  I  have  few  hours  of  leisure  and  health  together ;  I 
shall  however  endeavor  to  finish  this  letter  without  forcing 
myself;  I  know  not  whether  it  will  be  long  or  short.  My 
principal  design  is  to  make  you  understand  the  truth  of  the 
visits  which  you  know  of,  in  which  I  hoped  to  have  wherewith  to 
satisfy  you  and  to  reply  to  your  last  letters.  I  can  commence 
with  nothing  else  than  the  expression  of  the  pleasure  which 
they  have  given  me ;  I  have  received  satisfactions  so  sensible 
from  them  that  I  cannot  tell  them  to  you  by  word  of  mouth. 
I  entreat  you  to  believe  that,  though  I  may  not  have  written 
to  you,  there  has  not  been  an  hour  in  which  you  have  not  been 
present  to  me,  in  which  I  have  not  made  wishes  for  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  great  designs  with  which  Heaven  has  inspired 
you.1  I  have  felt  new  transports  of  joy  at  all  the  letters  which 
bore  testimony  of  it,  and  I  have  been  delighted  to  see  the  con- 

An  allusion  to  the  design  of  Jacqueline  t"  Become  a  nun. 


4:12  PASCAL. LETTERS. 

tinuance  of  it  without  your  receiving  any  news  on  our  part. 
This  has  made  me  judge  that  there  was  a  more  than  human 
support,  since  there  was  no  need  of  human  means  to  sustain  it 
I  should  be  glad  nevertheless  to  contribute  something  to  it; 
but  I  have  none  of  the  capacities  necessary  for  that  purpose. 
My  weakness  is  so  great  that,  if  I  should  undertake  it,  I  should 
do  an  act  of  temerity  rather  than  of  charity,  and  I  should  have 
a  right  to  fear  for  us  both  the  calamity  that  menaces  the  blind 
led  by  the  blind.  I  have  felt  my  incapacity  incomparably  more 
since  the  visits  which  are  in  question ;  and  far  from  having 
brought  back  enough  of  light  for  others,  I  have  brought  nothing 
but  confusion  and  trouble  for  myself,  which  God  alone  can 
ralm,  and  in  which  I  shall  work  with  care,  but  without  impa- 
tience and  disquietude,  knowing  well  that  both  would  remove 
me  from  it.  I  repeat  that  God  alone  can  calm  it,  and  that  I 
shall  work  for  this,  since  I  find  nothing  but  occasions  for  mak- 
ing it  spring  up  and  increase  in  those  from  whom  I  had  ex- 
pected its  dissipation ;  so  that,  seeing  myself  reduced  to  myself 
alone,  it  remains  to  me  only  to  pray  to  God  that  he  may  bless 
it  with  success.  For  this  I  shall  have  need  of  the  aid  of  scholars 
and  disinterested  persons :  the  first  will  not  afford  it ;  I  seek 
no  longer  but  for  the  latter ;  and  hence  I  desire  infinitely  to 
Hee  you,  for  letters  are  long,  inconvenient,  and  almost  useless 
on  such  occasions.  Nevertheless  I  will  write  you  something 
of  it. 

The  first  time  I  saw  M.  Rebours,1  I  made  myself  known  to 
him  and  was  received  with  as  much  civility  as  I  could  wish. 
This  was  due  to  my  father,  since  I  received  it  on  his  account. 
After  the  first  compliments,  I  asked  permission  to  see  him 
again  from  time  to  time ;  he  granted  it  to  me  :  thus  I  was  at 
liberty  to  see  him,  so  that  I  do  not  account  this  first  sight  as  a 
visit,  since  it  was  only  the  permission  for  such.  I  was  there 
for  some  time,  and  among  other  conversation,  I  told  him  with 
my  usual  frankness  and  naivete,  that  we  had  seen  their  books 


i  One  of  the  confessors  of  Port-Koyal.    See  the  Necrologe  de  Port- Boy 'A 
883. 


PASCAL. LETTERS.  413 

*nd  those  ot  their  adversaries,  which  was  sufficient  to  make 
him  understand  that  we  were  of  their  sentiments.  He  ex- 
pressed some  pleasure  at  this.  I  then  told  him  that  I  thought 
that  many  things  could  be  demonstrated  upon  the  mere  prin- 
ciples of  common-sense  that  their  adversaries  said  were  con- 
trary to  it,  and  that  well-directed  reasoning  led  to  a  belief  in 
them,  although  it  was  necessary  to  believe  in  them  without 
the  aid  of  reasoning.  These  were  my  own  words,  in  which  I 
think  there  was  not  wherewith  to  wound  the  most  severe 
modesty.  But  as  you  know  that  all  actions  may  have  two 
sources,  and  that  such  language  might  proceed  from  a  princi- 
ple of  vanity  and  of  confidence  in  reasoning,  this  suspicion, 
which  was  increased  by  the  knowledge  that  he  had  of  my 
studies  in  geometry,  sufficed  to  make  him  find  this  language 
strange,  and  he  expressed  it  to  me  by  a  repartee  so  full  of 
humility  and  gentleness  that  it  would  doubtless  have  con- 
founded the  pride  that  he  wished  to  refute.  Still  I  endeav- 
ored to  make  him  understand  my  motive ;  but  my  justification 
increased  his  suspicions  and  he  took  my  excuses  for  obsti- 
nacy. I  acknowledge  that  his  discourse  was  so  beautiful  that 
if  I  had  been  in  the  state  in  which  he  believed  me,  he  would 
have  drawn  me  from  it;  but  as  I  did  not  think  myself  in 
this  disease,  I  opposed  the  remedy  which  he  presented  me ; 
but  he  insisted  on  it  the  more,  the  more  I  seemed  to  evade 
it,  because  he  took  my  refusal  for  obstinacy ;  and  the  more 
he  strove  to  continue,  the  more  my  thanks  testified  to  him 
that  I  did  not  consider  it  necessary ;  so  that  the  whole  of  this 
interview  passed  in  this  equivocation  and  in  an  embarrassment 
which  continued  in  all  the  rest,  and  which  could  not  be  un- 
-avelled.  I  shall  not  relate  the  others  word  for  word,  since 
it  would  not  be  necessary  to  my  purpose ;  I  shall  only  tell  you1 
in  substance  the  purport  of  what  was  said  on  them,  or  rather, 
the  principle  of  their  restraint. 

But  I  entreat  you  before  all  things  to  draw  no  conclusions 
from  what  I  write,  for  things  may  3scape  me  without  sufficient 

»  We  have  not  the  letter  that  seems  here  to  be  announced. — 


4:1 4  PASCAL. LETTERS . 

precision  ;  and  this  may  cause  some  suspicion  to  spring  up  in 
you  as  disadvantageous  as  unjust.  For  indeed,  after  having 
reflected  on  it  carefully,  I  find  in  it  only  an  obscurity  which  it 
would  be  difficult  and  dangerous  to  decide,  and  for  myself,  I 
suspend  my  judgment  entirely,  as  much  from  my  weakness  as 
from  my  want  of  knowledge. 


LKTTER  FROM  PASCAL  AND  HIS  SISTER  JACQUELINE  TO  THEIR 
SISTER,  MADAME  PERIER. 

APRIL  1,  1648. 

We  do  not  know  whether  this  letter  will  be  interminable, 
like  the  rest,  but  we  know  that  we  would  gladly  write  to  you 
without  end.  We  have  here  the  letter  of  M.  de  Saint-Cyran, 
de  la  Vocation,  lately  published  without  approbation  or  privi- 
lege, which  has  shocked  many.  We  are  reading  it ;  we  will 
send  it  afterwards  to  you.  We  should  be  glad  to  know  your 
opinion  of  it,  and  that  of  my  father.  It  takes  high  ground. 

We  have  several  times  begun  to  write  to  you,  but  I  have 
been  deterred  from  it  by  the  example  and  the  speeches,  or,  if 
you  like,  the  rebuffs  of  which  you  know ;  but,  since  we  have 
been  enlightened  upon  the  matter  as  much  as  possible,  I  believe 
that  it  is  necessary  to  use  some  circumspection  in  it,  and  if 
there  are  occasions  in  which  we  ought  not  to  speak  of  these 
things,  we  may  now  dispense  with  them  ;  for  we  do  not  doubt 
each  other,  and  as  we  are,  as  it  were,  mutually  assured  that 
we  have,  in  all  these  discourses,  nothing  but  the  glory  of  God 
for  our  object,  and  scarcely  any  communication  outside  of  our 
selves,  I  do  not  see  that  we  should  have  any  scruple,  so  long 
w  he  shall  give  us  these  sentiments.  If  we  add  to  these  con- 
eiderations  that  of  the  union  which  nature  has  made  between 
us,  and  to  this  last  that  which  grace  has  made,  I  think  that, 
far  from  finding  a  prohibition,  we  shall  find  an  obligation  to 
it ;  for  I  find  that  our  happiness  has  been  so  great  in  being 
united  in  the  latter  wnv  that  we  ought  to  unite  tr  acknowledge 


PASCAL. LETTERS.  415 

and  to  rejoice  at  it.  For  it  must  be  confessed  that  it  is  pi'op- 
erly  since  this  time  (which  M.  de  Saint-Cyran  wishes  should 
be  called  the  commencement  of  life),  that  we  should  consider 
ourselves  as  truly  related,  and  that  it  has  pleased  God  to  join 
us  in  his  new  world  by  the  spirit,  as  he  had  done  in  the  ter- 
restrial world  by  the  flesh. 

We  beg  you  that  there  may  not  be  a  day  in  which  you  do 
not  revolve  this  in  memory,  and  often  acknowledge  the  way 
which  God  has  used  in  this  conjunction,  in  which  he  has  not 
only  made  us  brothers  of  each  other,  but  children  of  the  same 
father ;  for  you  know  that  my  father  has  foreseen  us  all,  and,  as 
it  were,  conceived  us  in  this  design.  It  is  in  this  that  we  should 
marvel,  that  God  has  given  us  both  the  type  and  the  reality  of 
this  union ;  for,  as  we  have  often  said  among  ourselves,  cor- 
poreal things  are  nothing  but  an  image  of  spiritual,  and  God 
has  represented  invisible  things  in  the  visible.  This  thought 
is  so  general  and  so  useful  that  we  ought  not  to  let  much  time 
pass  without  thinking  of  it  with  attention.  We  have  dis- 
coursed particularly  enough  of  the  relation  of  these  two  sorts 
of  things,  for  which  reason  we  shall  not  speak  of  it  here ;  for 
it  is  too  long  to  write,  and  too  beautiful  not  to  have  remained 
in  your  memory,  and,  what  is  more,  is  absolutely  necessary 
according  to  my  opinion.  For,  as  our  sins  hold  us  wrapped  in 
things  corporeal  and  terrestrial,  and  as  these  are  not  only  the 
penalty  of  our  sins,  but  also  the  occasion  of  committing  new 
ones,  and  the  cause  of  the  first,  it  is  necessary  that  we  should 
make  use  of  the  same  position  into  which  we  have  fallen  to 
raise  us  from  our  overthrow.  For  this  reason,  we  should  use 
'arefully  the  advantage  which  the  goodness  of  God  bestows 
-pon  us  in  having  always  before  our  eyes  an  image  of  the 
£ood  that  we  have  lost,  and  in  surrounding  us  in  the  very 
captivity  to  which  his  justice  has  reduced  us,  with  so  many 
objects  that  serve  to  us  as  an  ever-present  lesson. 

So  that  we  should  consider  ourselves  as  criminals  in  a  prison 
Blled  with  images  of  their  liberator,  and  instructions  necessary 
to  escape  from  their  bondage ;  but  it  must  be  acknowledgea 
that  we  cannot  perceive  these  sacred  characters  without  a 


416  PASCAL. —  LETTERS. 

supernatural  light ;  for  as  all  things  speak  of  God  to  those  wh« 
know  him,  and  as  they  reveal  him  to  all  those  who  love  him, 
these  same  things  conceal  him  from  all  those  who  know  him 
not.  Thus  it  is  seen,  that  in  the  darkness  of  the  world  men 
follow  them  in  a  brutal  blindness,  and  cling  to  them,  and  make 
of  them  the  final  end  of  their  desires,  which  they  cannot  do 
without  sacrilege,  for  there  is  nothing  but  God  that  should  be 
the  final  end,  as  he  alone  is  the  principle.  For  whatever  re- 
semblance created  nature  may  have  to  its  Creator,  and  although 
the  most  trifling  things,  and  the  smallest  and  the  vilest  por 
tions  of  the  world  represent  at  least  by  their  unity  the  perfect 
unity  that  is  found  only  in  God,  we  cannot  legitimately  bear 
to  them  sovereign  respect,  since  there  is  nothing  so  abomi- 
nable in  the  eyes  of  God  and  man  as  idolatry,  because  it  ren- 
ders to  the  creature  the  honor  that  is  due  to  none  but  the 
Creator.  The  Scripture  is  full  of  the  vengeance  that  God  exe- 
cutes on  all  those  who  have  been  guilty  of  it,  and  the  first 
sommandment  of  the  Decalogue,  which  includes  all  the  rest, 
prohibits  above  every  thing  the  adoration  of  his  images.  But 
as  he  is  much  more  jealous  of  our  affections  than  our  respect, 
it  is  evident  that  there  is  no  crime  more  injurious  or  more  de- 
testable to  him  than  to  bestow  sovereign  love  upon  created 
things,  although  they  represent  him. 

This  is  why  those  to  whom  God  has  made  known  these 
great  truths  ought  to  use  these  images  to  enjoy  that  which 
they  represent,  and  not  remain  eternally  in  that  carnal  and 
Judaical  blindness  which  causes  the  type  to  be  taken  for  the 
reality.  And  those  whom  God,  by  regeneration,  has  drawn 
freely  from  sin  (which  is  the  veritable  nothingness,  since  it  is 
opposed  to  God,  who  is  the  veritable  being)  to  give  them  a 
place  in  his  Church,  which  is  his  real  temple,  after  having 
irawn  them  freely  from  nothingness  to  the  point  of  their  crea- 
tion, in  order  to  give  them  a  place  in  the  universe,  have  a 
double  obligation  to  honor  him  and  serve  him  ;  since  as  created 
beings  they  should  remain  in  the  order  of  created  beings,  and 
not  profane  the  place  that  they  fill,  aod  as  Christians  they 
should  aspire  without  ceasing  to  render  themselves  worthy  t-« 


PASCAL. LETTERS.  417 

form  part  of  the  body  of  Jesus  Christ.  But  as  whilst  the  cre- 
ated things  that  compose  the  world  acquit  themselves  of  their 
obligation  by  remaining  within  a  limited  perfection,  because 
the  perfection  of  the  world  is  also  limited,  the  children  of  God 
ehould  set  no  bounds  to  their  purity  and  their  perfection,  be- 
cause they  form  part  of  a  body  wholly  divine,  and  infinitely 
perfect ;  as  it  is  evident  that  Jesus  Christ  does  not  limit  the 
commandment  of  perfection,  and  that  he  proposes  it  to  us  as 
a  model  wherein  it  exists  infinite  when  he  says :  "  Be  ye 
also  perfect  as  your  Father  in  heaven  is  perfect."  Thus  it  is 
a  very  prejudicial  and  very  common  error  among  Christians, 
and  even  among  those  who  make  a  profession  of  piety,  to  per- 
suade themselves  that  there  may  be  a  degree  of  perfection  in 
which  they  can  be  with  assurance,  and  which  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  pass,  since  there  is  none  at  which  it  will  not  be  wrong 
to  stop,  and  from  which  we  can  only  avoid  falling  by  mounting 
still  higher. 


LETTER  FROM  PASCAL  AND  HIS  SISTER  JACQUELINE  TO  THEIR 
SISTER,  MADAME  PERIER. 

PABIS,  November  5,  afternoon,  1648. 
Mr  DEAR  SISTER, 

Your  letter  has  recalled  to  us  a  misundei-standing  of  which 
we  had  lost  recollection,  so  absolutely  had  it  passed  from  us. 
The  somewhat  too  diffuse  explanations  that  we  have  received 
have  brought  to  light  the  general  and  former  subject  of  our 
torn  plaints,  and  the  satisfaction  that  we  have  given  has  soft- 
ened the  harshness  which  my  father  had  conceived  for  them. 
We  said  what  you  had  already  said,  without  knowing  that  you 
had  said  it,  and  then  we  excused  verbally  what  you  had  after- 
wards excused  in  writing,  without  knowing  that  you  had  done 
so ;  and  we  knew  not  what  you  had  done  until  after  we  had 
acted  ourselves ;  for  as  we  ha»e  bidden  nothing  from  my  father, 
he  has  revealed  every  thing,  and  thus  cured  all  our  suspicions. 
You  know  how  much  such  troubles  distuib  the  peace  of  the 


418  PASCAL. LETTERS. 

family  both  within  and  without,  and  what  need  we  have  in 
these  junctures  of  the  warnings  which  you  have  given  us  a 
little  too  late. 

We  have  some  to  give  you  on  the  subject  of  your  own. 
The  first  is  in  respect  to  what  you  say,  that  we  have  instructed 
you  as  to  what  you  should  write  to  us.  1°.  I  do  not  remem- 
ber to  have  spoken  to  you  of  it,  so  that  this  was  a  novelty 
to  me;  and,  besides,  even  though  this  were  true,  I  should 
fear  that  you  had  not  retained  this  humanly,  if  you  had  not 
forgotten  the  person  of  whom  you  learned  it  to  remember 
only  God,  who  alone  could  have  truly  instructed  you  in  it. 
If  you  remember  it  as  a  good  thing,  you  cannot  think  to  hold 
it  from  any  other,  since  neither  you  nor  the  others  can  learn  it 
except  from  God  alone.  For,  although  in  this  kind  of  grati- 
tude, we  do  not  stop  at  the  men  whom  we  address  as  though 
they  were  the  authors  of  the  good  that  we  receive  through 
their  means,  this  nevertheless  forms  a  partial  opposition  to  the 
views  of  God,  and  chiefly  in  the  persons  who  are  not  entirely 
divested  of  the  carnal  impressions  which  make  them  consider 
as  the  source  of  good  the  objects  that  transmit  it. 

Not  that  we  ought  not  to  remember  those  persons  from 
whom  we  have  received  any  instructions,  when  these  persons 
have  been  authorized  to  make  them,  as  fathers,  bishops,  and 
tonfessors,  because  they  are  the  masters  of  whom  others  are 
the  disciples.  But  as  to  us,  it  is  different ;  for  as  the  angel 
refused  the  adoration  of  a  holy  servant  like  himself,  we  tell 
you,  in  entreating  you  no  longer  to  use  these  terms  of  human 
gratitude,  to  refrain  from  paying  us  such  compliments,  since 
we  are  disciples  like  yourself. 

The  second  is  in  respect  to  what  you  say  of  its  being  unne- 
cessary to  repeat  these  things  to  us,  since  we  know  them  per 
fectly  already ;  which  causes  us  to  fear  that  you  do  not  distin 
guish  clearly  enough  here  between  the  things  of  which  you 
upeak  and  those  of  which  the  world  speaks,  since  it  is  doubtless 
quite  enough  to  have  learned  the  latter  once  and  retained  them 
well  to  be  no  further  instructed  in  them,  while  it  does  not  suf- 
fice to  have  comprehended  once  those  of  the  other  kind  and  t« 


PASCAL. —  LETTERS.  4:19 

have  known  them  well,  that  is,  by  the  internal  impulse  of  God,  to 
preserve  the  knowledge  of  them  in  the  same  degree,  although 
we  may  retain  the  memory.  Not  that  we  may  not  remember 
and  as  easily  retain  an  epistle  of  St.  Paul  as  a  book  of  Virgil ; 
but  the  knowledge  that  we  acquire  in  this  manner,  as  well  as 
its  continuation,  is  only  an  effect  of  memory,  while  to  under- 
stand this  secret  language,  unknown  to  those  who  are  not  of 
Heaven,  it  is  necessary  that  the  same  grace,  which  alone  can 
give  the  first  knowledge  of  it,  shall  continue  and  render  it  ever 
present  by  retracing  it  without  ceasing  in  the  hearts  of  tht 
faithful  to  keep  it  constantly  existing  there ;  as  God  continually 
renews  their  beatitude  in  the  blessed,  which  is  an  effect  and  a 
consequence  of  grace ;  as  likewise  the  Church  holds  that  the 
Father  perpetually  produces  the  Son  and  maintains  the  eternity 
of  this  essence  by  an  effusion  of  his  substance,  which  is  with- 
out interruption  as  well  as  without  end. 

Thus  the  continuation  of  the  justice  of  the  faithful  is  nothing 
e^e  than  the  continuation  of  the  infusion  of  grace,  and  not  a 
single  grace  that  subsists  continually ;  and  this  it  is  that  teaches 
us  perfectly  our  perpetual  dependence  on  the  mercy  of  God, 
since  if  he  suspends  the  course  of  it  ever  so  slightly,  barren- 
ness necessarily  becomes  the  result.  In  this  necessity,  it  is 
easy  to  see  that  it  is  necessary  to  make  new  efforts  continually 
to  acquire  this  continual  newness  of  spirit,  since  we  can  only 
preserve  the  former  grace  by  the  acquisition  of  a  new  grace, 
and  since  otherwise  we  shall  lose  what  we  think  to  retain,  as 
those  who  wish  to  shut  in  the  light  shut  in  nothing  but  dark- 
ness. Thus  we  should  watch  unceasingly  to  purify  the  interior, 
which  is  constantly  sullied  by  new  spots  while  retaining  the 
old  ones,  since  without  this  assiduous  renovation  we  shall  be 
incapable  of  receiving  that  new  wine  that  cannot  be  put  into 
old  bottles. 

For  this  reason  you  should  not  fear  to  place  before  our  eyes' 
the  things  which  we  have  in  cur  memory,  and  which  it  is 
necessary  to  cause  to  enter  into  the  neart,  since  it  is  unques- 
tionable that  your  discourse  can  better  serve  as  the  instrument 
of  grace  than  can  the  impression  of  it  that  remains  in  our 


4:20  PASCAL. LETTERS. 

memory,  since  grace  js  especially  accorded  to  prayer,  and 
since  this  charity  that  you  have  had  for  us  is  among  those 
prayers  that  ought  never  to  be  interrupted.  Thus  we  never 
should  refuse  to  read  or  to  hear  holy  things,  however  common 
or  well-known  they  may  be;  for  our  memory  as  well  as  the 
instructions  which  it  contains,  is  only  an  inanimate  and  Judai- 
cal  body  without  the  spirit  that  should  vivify  them.  And 
it  often  happens  that  God  avails  himself  of  these  exterior 
means  tc  make  them  understood  and  to  leave  so  much  the 
less  food  for  the  vanity  of  men  when  they  thus  receive  grace 
in  themselves.  Thus,  a  book  or  a  sermon,  however  common 
it  may  be,  brings  much  more  profit  to  him  who  hears  or  reads 
it  with  better  disposition  than  does  the  excellence  of  the  most 
elevated  discourses  which  usually  bring  more  pleasure  than 
instruction ;  and  it  is  sometimes  seen  that  those  who  listen  as 
they  ought,  although  ignorant  and  almost  stupid,  are  touched 
by  the  simple  name  of  God  and  the  words  that  menace  them 
with  hell,  although  these  may  be  all  that  they  comprehend  and 
although  they  knew  it  as  well  before. 

The  third  is  in  respect  to  what  you  say  about  only  writing 
things  to  make  us  understand  that  you  share  the  same  feeling. 
We  have  equally  to  praise  and  to  thank  you  on  this  subject ; 
we  praise  you  for  your  perseverance  and  thank  you  for  the 
testimony  that  you  give  us  of  it.  We  had  already  drawn  this 
confession  from  M.  Perier,  and  the  things  that  we  induced  him 
to  say  had  assured  us  of  it :  we  can  only  tell  you  how  much 
we  are  pleased  by  representing  to  you  the  joy  which  you 
would  receive  if  you  should  hear  the  same  thing  of  us. 

We  have  nothing  in  particular  to  tell  you,  except  touching 
the  design  of  your  house.1  We  know  that  M.  Perier  is  too 
earnest  in  what  he  undertakes  to  fully  think  of  two  things  at 
once,  and  that  the  entire  design  is  of  such  magnitude  that,  in 
'order  to  complete  it,  he  must  remain  a  long  time  without 
thinking  of  any  thing  else.  We  know,  too,  that  his  project  ia 


1  A  country  house  built  by  M.  Pc-rier,  which  i3  still  standing,  at  Bieii 
Mais,  near  the  gates  of  Clennont. — Faugen. 


PASCAL. —  LETTERS.  421 

only  for  a  part  of  the  building ;  but  this,  besides  being  only 
too  large  alone,  engages  for  the  completion  of  the  rest  as  soon 
as  there  shall  be  no  farther  obstacles  to  it,  however  determined 
he  may  be  to  the  contrary,  especially  if  he  employs  the  time 
in  building  that  it  would  take  to  undeceive  him  of  the  secret 
pleasure  that  he  finds  in  it.  Thus  we  have  counselled  him  to 
t  lild  much  less  than  he  intended,  and  only  what  is  actually 
necessary,  although  according  to  the  same  design,  in  order  that 
he  may  not  have  cause  to  become  absorbed  in  it,  nor  yet  de- 
prive himself  of  the  opportunity  of  doing  so.  We  entreat  you 
to  think  seriously  of  it,  and  to  resolve  to  counsel  him  likewise, 
lest  it  may  happen  that  he  may  be  far  more  prudent  and  be- 
stow much  more  care  and  pains  in  the  building  of  an  earthly 
house  than  he  is  obliged  to  bestow  on  that  mystic  tower,  of 
which  you  know  St.  Augustine  speaks  in  one  of  his  letters, 
which  he  has  promised  to  finish  in  his  conversations.  Adieu. 
B.  P.— J.  P. 

Postscript  of  Jacqueline. — I  hope  shortly  to  write  you  the 
particulars  of  my  own  affair,  of  which  I  shall  send  you  the 
details ;  meanwhile,  pray  to  God  for  the  result. 

If  you  know  any  pious  soul,  let  him  pray  to  God  for  me 
ulso.1 


LETTER  TO  MADAME  PERIER  AND  HER  HUSBAND,*  ON  THE 
DEATH  OF  M.  PASCAL,  PERE. 

OCTOBER  17, 1651. 

As  you  are  both  now  informed  of  our  common  misfortune, 
and  as  the  letter  which  we  commenced  has  given  you  some 
consolation  by  the  recital  of  the  happy  circumstances  that 

1  This  last  sentence  is  in  the  handwriting  of  Pascal  •  usually  Jacqueline 
Wrote  under  the  dictation  of  her  brother. 

"  Fragments  of  this  letter  have  figured  in  a  great  number  of  the  editions 
>f  Pascal,  under  the  title  of:  Thoughts  upon  Death,  extracted  from  a  Utter 
\eritten  by  M.  Pascal  upon  the  subject  of  the  death  of  his  father.  M.  Cousin, 
Bpou  this  induction,  sought  for  and  found  tae  letter,  such  as  we  pub- 


422  PASCAL. LETTERS. 

accompanied  the  subject  of  our  affliction,  I  cannot  refuse  to 
you  those  which  remain  in  my  mind,  and  which  I  pray  God 
to  give  me,  and  to  recall  to  me  several  which  we  formerly  re- 
ceived from  his  grace,  and  which  have  been  newly  given  to  us 
by  our  friends  on  this  occasion. 

I  know  not  now  where  my  first  letter  ended.  My  sister  sent 
it  away  without  noticing  that  it  was  not  finished.  It  only 
seems  to  me  that  it  contained  in  substance  some  particulars  of 
the  conduct  of  God  over  life  and  sickness,  which  I  would  repeat 
to  you  here,  so  deeply  are  they  engraven  in  my  heart,  and  so 
solid  is  the  consolation  that  they  bring  me,  if  you  could  not 
have  seen  them  yourselves  in  the  preceding  letter,  and  if  my 
sister  did  not  intend  to  make  to  you  a  more  exact  recital  of 
them  at  her  earliest  convenience.  I  shall,  therefore,  only 
speak  to  you  here  of  the  conclusion  which  I  draw  from  them, 
which  is  that,  except  those  who  are  interested  by  the  feel- 
ings of  nature,  there  is  not  a  Christian  who  should  not  rejoice 
at  it. 

Upon  this  great  foundation,  I  shall  commence  what  I  have 
to  say  to  you  by  a  remark  that  is  very  consoling  to  those  who 
have  sufficient  liberty  of  spirit  to  conceive  it  in  the  midst  of 


lish  it  here.*  "  Compared  with  the  published  thoughts  on  death,"  says  M. 
Cousin,  "  this  letter  furnishes  passages  entirely  new,  and  different  read- 
ings, that  mark,  in  the  most  striking  manner,  how  much  the  style  of  a 
mediocre  man,  like  the  Duke  de  Koannez,  or  even  the  style  of  an  esti- 
mable writer,  like  Arnauld,  differs  from  that  of  a  writer  of  genius,  like 
Pascal.  .  .  .  We  see  that,  at  the  moment  in  which  Pascal  wrote  this 
letter,  at  the  end  of  1651,  he  had  not  yst  arrived  at  that  absolute  retrench- 
ment of  the  most  legitimate  natural  affections  that  he  imposed  upon  him- 
self in  the  closing  years  of  his  life,  througn  an  excess  contrary  to  human 
wisdom,  and  even  to  the  Divine  Wisdom,  who  also  loved  during  his  ;  «o- 
sage  over  the  earth.  Here  Pascal  is  still  a  man,  a  son,  a  brother.  This 
letter,  which  depicts  his  soul  at  this  epoch  of  his  life,  should  be  integrally 
restored." 

The  father  of  Pascal  died  on  the  24th  of  December ;  the  letter  is  dated 
the  17th  of  October. 


*  See  Dei  Pensits  de  Pascal,  1843,  In  Svo,  p.  49  and  following,  and  SOS  *»<1  Cot 
lowing. 


PASCAL. —  Ui'iTEBS.  428 

grief.  It  is  that  we  should  seek  consolation  in  our  ills,  not  in 
ourselves,  not  in  men,  not  in  any  thing  that  is  created ;  but  in 
God.  And  the  reason  is,  that  all  creatures  are  not  the  first  cause 
of  the  accidents  that  we  call  evils ;  but  that  the  providence  of 
God  being  the  only  and  veritable  cause,  the  arbiter  and  the  sov 
ereign  of  them,  it  is  indubitable  that  we  must  resort  directly 
to  the  source,  and  go  back  to  the  origin  to  find  a  solid  alle- 
viation. If  we  follow  this  precept,  and  if  we  regard  this  event, 
cot  as  an  effect  of  chance,  not  as  a  fatal  necessity  of  nature, 
not  as  the  play  of  the  elements  and  parts  of  which  man  is 
composed  (for  God  has  not  abandoned  his  elect  to  caprice  and 
chance),  but  as  a  result  indispensable,  inevitable,  just,  holy, 
useful  to  the  good  of  the  Church,  and  to  the  exaltation  of  the 
name  and  the  greatness  of  God,  of  a  decree  of  his  providence 
conceived  from  all  eternity  to  be  executed  in  the  plenitude  of 
its  time  in  such  a  year,  such  a  day,  such  an  hour,  such  a 
place,  such  a  manner ;  and,  in  short,  that  all  that  has  happened 
has  been  from  all  time  foreknown  and  foreordained  of  God ;  if, 
I  say,  through  a  transport  of  grace,  we  regard  this  accident, 
not  in  itself  and  apart  from  God,  but  apart  from  itself,  and  in 
the  inmost  part  of  the  will  of  God,  in  the  justice  of  his  decree, 
in  the  order  of  his  providence,  which  is  the  true  cause  of  it, 
without  which  it  would  not  have  happened,  through  which 
alone  it  has  happened,  and  in  the  manner  in  which  it  has  hap- 
pened ;  we  shall  adore  in  humble  silence  the  impenetrable 
loftiqess  of  his  secrets,  we  shall  venerate  the  sanctity  of  his 
decrees,  we  shall  bless  the  acts  of  his  providence,  and,  uniting 
our  will  to  that  of  God  himself,  we  shall  wish  with  him,  in 
him,  and  for  him,  the  thing  that  he  has  willed  in  us  and  for 
us  from  all  eternity. 

Let  us  regard  it,  then,  in  this  manner,  and  let  us  practice 
this  precept,  which  I  learned  of  a  great  man  in  the  time  of  our 
deepest  affliction,  that  there  is  no  consolation  except  in  truth 
alone.  It  is  certain  that  Socrates  and  Seneca  have  nothing 
consolatory  on  such  an  occasion  as  this.  They  have  been  in  the 
error  that  has  blinded  all  men  in  the  Beginning :  they  have  all 
taken  death  as  natural  to  man;  and  all  'he  discourses  which 


424  PASCAL. —  LETTERS. 

they  have  founded  upon  this  false  principle  are  so  futile  that 
they  only  serve  to  demonstrate  by  their  inutility  how  weak 
man  is  in  general,  since  the  most  elevated  productions  of  the 
greatest  among  men  are  so  weak  and  puerile.  It  is  not  the 
same  with  Jesus  Christ,  it  is  not  thus  in  the  canonical  books 
the  truth  is  there  revealed,  and  consolation  is  also  as  infallibly 
'oined  with  it  as  it  is  infallibly  separated  from  error. 

Let  us,  then,  consider  death  in  the  truth  which  the  lloly 
Spirit  has  taught  us.  We  have  this  admirable  advantage,  of 
knowing  that  death  is  really  and  actually  a  penalty  of  sin 
imposed  on  man  in  order  to  expiate  his  crime,  neceseary  to 
man  to  purge  him  from  sin ;  that  it  is  the  only  one  that  can 
deliver  the  soul  from  the  concupiscence  of  the  members,  with- 
out which  saints  come  not  into  the  world.  We  know  that 
life,  and  the  life  of  Christians,  is  a  continual  sacrifice,  that  can 
only  be  completed  by  death ;  we  know  that  as  Jesus  Christ, 
being  in  the  world,  regarded  and  offered  himself  to  God  as  a 
sacrifice,  and  a  veritable  victim  ;  as  his  birth,  his  life,  his 
death,  his  resurrection,  his  ascension,  his  presence  in  the  Eu- 
charist, and  his  eternal  seat  at  the  right  hand,  are  only  a  sole 
and  single  sacrifice;  we  know  that  what  has  been  accom- 
plished in  Jesus  Christ  should  be  accomplished  also  in  all  his 
members. 

Let  us,  then,  consider  life  as  a  sacrifice ;  and  let  the  acci- 
dents of  life  make  no  impression  upon  the  minds  of  Christians, 
except  in  proportion  as  they  interrupt  or  accomplish  this  sacri- 
fice. Let  us  only  call  that  evil  which  renders  the  victim  of 
God  the  victim  of  the  devil,  but  let  us  call  that  good  which 
renders  the  victim  of  the  devil  in  Adam  the  victim  of  God ; 
and  by  this  rule  let  us  examine  the  nature  of  death. 

.For  this  consideration  it  is  necessary  to  have  recourse  to  the 
person  of  Jesus  Christ  for  all  that  is  in  men  is  abominable, 
and  as  God  looks  upon  men  only  through  the  mediator  Jesus 
Chrisi,  men  should  also  look  neither  upon  others  nor  them- 
selves except  mediately  through  Jesus  Christ.  For  if  we  do 
aot  take  this  course,  we  shall  find  in  ourselves  nothing  but 
veritable  misfortunes,  or  abominable  pleasures;  but  if  we 


PASCAL. LKTTEE8.  425 

regard  all  things  in  Jesus  Christ,  we  shall  find  full  consolation, 
full  satisfaction,  and  full  edification. 

Let  us,  then,  consider  death  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  not  with 
out  Jesus  Christ.  Without  Jesus  Christ  it  is  horrible,  detecta- 
ble, the  horror  of  nature.  In  Jesus  Christ  it  is  altogether  dif- 
ferent ;  it  is  benignant,  holy,  the  joy  of  the  faithful.  Every  thing 
s  sweet  in  Jesus  Christ,  even  to  death :  and  this  is  why  he 
suffered  and  died  to  sanctity  death  and  suffering ;  and,  in  com- 
mon with  God  and  man,  he  has  been  all  that  was  great,  and 
all  that  was  abject,  in  order  to  sanctify  in  himself  all  things 
except  sin,  and  to  be  the  model  of  every  condition. 

To  consider  the  nature  of  death,  and  of  death  in  Jesus 
Christ,  it  is  necessary  to  see  what  rank  it  holds  in  his  continual 
and  uninterrupted  sacrifice,  and  for  this  to  remark  that  in 
sacrifices  the  most  important  part  is  the  death  of  the  victim. 
The  oblation  and  sanctification  which  precede  are  the  details ; 
but  the  accomplishment  is  the  death,  in  which,  by  the  annihi- 
lation of  life,  the  creature  renders  to  God  all  the  homage  of 
which  it  is  capable,  in  annihilating  itself  before  the  face  of  his 
majesty,  and  in  adoring  his  sovereign  existence,  which  alone 
exists  in  reality.  It  is  true  that  there  is  another  part,  after  the 
death  of  the  victim,  without  which  its  death  would  be  useless, 
that  is,  God's  acceptance  of  the  sacrifice.  This  is  what  is  said 
in  the  Scripture :  Et  odoratus  est  Dominus  suavitatem. 
u  And  the  Lord  smelled  a  sweet  sacrifice."  This  it  is  that 
really  consummates  the  oblation ;  but  it  is  rather  an  action  of 
God  towards  the  creature  than  of  the  creature  towards  God, 
and  does  not  hinder  the  last  act  of  the  creature  from  being 
death. 

All  these  things  have  been  accomplished  in  Jesus  Christ. 
In  entering  the  world,  he  offered  himself:  Obtulit  semetipxum 
per  Spiritum  Sanctum.  Inyrediems  mundum,  dixit :  Hostiam 
noluisti  .  .  .  Tune  dixi :  Ecce  venio.  In  capite.  etc.  "  Through 
the  Eternal  Spirit  he  offered  himself.  When  he  cometh  into 
the  world,  he  saith,  sacrifice  and  offering  thou  wouldst  not. 
L'hen  said  I,  Lo,  I  come."  This  is  his  oblation.  Ilis  sanctifi- 
;ation  was  immediate  upon  his  oblation.  This  sacrifice  If  sted 


4:26  PASCAL. —  LETTERS. 

all  his  life,  and  was  accomplished  by  his  death.  "  Ought  lie 
not  to  have  suffered  these  things,  and  to  enter  into  his  glory  ?" 
"  Though  he  were  a  son,  yet  learned  he  obedience  by  the  things 
which  he  suffered."  But  "  in  the  days  of  his  flesh,  when  he 
had  offered  up  prayers  and  supplications,  with  strong  cries  and 
tears  unto  him  that  was  able  to  save,  he  was  heard  in  that  he 
feared:"  and  God  raised  him  from  the  dead,  and  sent  him  hie 
glory,  prefigured  formerly  by  the  fire  from  heaven  that  fell 
upon  the  victim  to  burn  and  consume  his  body,  and  to  mako 
it  live  the  spiritual  life  of  glory.  This  is  what  Jesus  Christ 
has  obtained,  and  what  has  been  accomplished  through  his 
resurrection. 

Thus  this  sacrifice  being  perfected  by  the  death  of  Christ, 
and  consummated  even  in  his  body  by  his  resurrection,  in 
which  the  image  of  sinful  flesh  was  absorbed  by  glory,  Jesus 
Christ  had  wholly  finished  his  part ;  it  remained  only  that  the 
sacrifice  should  be  accepted  of  God,  that,  as  the  smoke  ascended 
and  carried  the  odor  to  the  throne  of  God,  thus  Jesus  Christ 
was,  in  this  state  of  perfect  immolation,  offered,  carried  to,  and 
accepted  at  the  throne  of  God  himself:  and  this  it  is  that  has 
been  accomplished  in  the  ascension,  in  which  he  mounted  on 
high  and  by  his  own  power  and  by  the  power  of  his  Holy 
Spirit,  which  surrounded  him  on  every  side,  was  carried  away  ; 
as  the  smoke  of  the  victims,  the  emblem  of  Jesus  Christ,  was 
carried  on  high  by  the  air  that  sustained  it,  the  type  of  the 
Holy  Spirit :  and  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  indicate  to  us  ex- 
pressly that  he  was  received  up  into  heaven,  in  order  to  assure 
*s  that  this  holy  sacrifice  accomplished  on  earth  was  welcome 
und  acceptable  to  God,  and  was  received  into  the  bosom  of 
God,  to  shine  in  glory  through  ages  upon  ages. 

This  is  the  state  of  things  as  regards  our  sovereign  Lord. 
Let  us  consider  them  now  in  ourselves.  From  the  moment 
we  enter  the  Church,  which  is  the  world  of  the  Faithful  and 
especially  of  the  elect,  into  which  Jesus  Christ  entered  at  the 
moment  of  his  incarnation  by  a  privilege  peculiar  to  the  only 
Son  of  God,  we  are  offered  and  sacrificed.  This  sacrifice  it 
continued  by  life  and  completed  at  death,  in  which  the  sou. 


PASCAL. LETTERS.  427 

truly  quilting  all  vices,  and  the  love  of  the  world,  with  the  con- 
tagion of  which  it  is  always  infected  throughout  life,  achieves 
its  immolation  and  is  received  into  the  bosom  of  God. 

Let  us  not  grieve  then  like  the  heathen  who  have  no  hope. 
We  did  not  lose  our  father  at  the  moment  of  his  death  :  we 
lost  him,  so  to  say,  when  he  entered  the  Church  through  bap- 
tism. From  that  time,  he  belonged  to  God ;  his  life  was  de- 
voted to  God ;  his  actions  regarded  the  world  only  for  God. 
In  his  death,  he  became  totally  separated  from  sin,  and  it  was 
at  that  moment  that  he  was  accepted  by  God,  and  that  his 
sacrifice  received  its  accomplishment  and  its  consummation. 
He  has  performed  therefore  what  he  had  vowed :  he  has  fin- 
ished the  work  that  God  had  given  him  to  do ;  he  has  accom- 
plished the  only  thing  for  which  he  was  created.  The  will  of 
God  is  accomplished  in  him,  and  his  will  is  absorbed  in  God. 
Let  not  our  will  then  separate  what  God  has  joined  together ; 
and  let  us  stifle  or  moderate,  by  the  understanding  of  truth, 
the  feelings  of  a  corrupt  and  fallen  nature  which  has  only  false 
images,  and  which  troubles  by  its  illusions  the  sanctity  of  the 
feelings  which  truth  and  the  Gospel  should  give  us. 

Let  us  then  no  longer  look  upon  death  like  the  heathen,  but 
like  Christians,  that  is  with  hope,  as  St.  Paul  commands,  since 
this  is  the  especial  privilege  of  Christians.  Let  us  no  longer 
regard  a  corpse  as  putrid  carrion  because  deceitful  nature 
figures  it  thus ;  but  as  the  inviolable  and  eternal  temple  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  as  faith  teaches.  For  we  know  that  sainted  bodies 
are  inhabited  by  the  Holy  Spirit  until  the  resurrection,  'which 
will  be  caused  by  virtue  of  this  spirit  which  dwells  in  them 
for  this  effect.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  we  honor  the  relics 
of  the  dead,  and  it  was  on  this  true  principle  that  the  Euchar- 
ist was-  formerly  placed  in  the  mouth  of  the  dead,  since,  as  it 
was  known  that  they  were  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  it 
was  believed  that  they  also  merited  to  be  united  to  this  holy 
sacrament.  But  the  ChurcL  has  changed  this  custom,  not  in 
order  that  these  bodies  shall  not  be  holy,  but  for  the  reason 
»hat  the  Eucharist  being  the  bread  of  life  and  of  the  living,  i' 
>ught  not  to  be  given  to  the  dead. 


428  PASCAL. —  LETTERS. 

Let  us  no  longer  regard  a  man  as  having  ceased  to  live 
although  nature  suggests  it;  but  as  beginning  to  live,  as  truth 
assures.  Let  us  no  longer  regard  his  soul  as  perished  and 
reduced  to  nothingness,  but  as  quickened  and  united  to  the 
sovereign  •life ;  and  let  us  thus  correct,  by  attention  to  these 
truths,  the  sentiments  of  error  so  deeply  imprinted  in  our- 
selves and  those  emotions  of  honor  so  natural  to  mankind. 

To  subdue  this  dread  more  effectually,  it  is  necessary  fully 
to  comprehend  its  origin  ;  and  to  paint  it  to  you  in  a  few  words, 
I  am  forced  to  tell  you  in  general  what  is  the  source  of  all  vice 
and  all  sin.  This  I  have  learned  from  two  very  great  and  holy 
personages.  The  truth  covered  by  this  mystery  is  that  God 
aas  created  man  with  two  loves,  the  one  for  God,  the  other 
for  himself;  but  with  this  law,  that  the  love  for  God  shall 
be  infinite,  that  is  without  any  other  limits  than  God  him 
self;  and  that  the  love  for  self  shall  be  finite  and  relating  to 
God. 

Man  in  this  state  not  only  loves  himself  without  sin,  but 
could  not  do  otherwise  than  love  himself  without  sin. 

Since,  sin  being  come,  man  has  lost  the  first  of  these  loves ; 
and  the  love  for  himself  being  left  alone  in  this  great  soul 
capable  of  an  infinite  love,  this  self-love  has  extended  and  over- 
flowed in  the  empty  space  which  the  love  of  God  has  quitted ; 
and  thus  he  loves  himself  alone,  and  all  things  for  himself,  that 
is,  infinitely.  This  is  the  origin  of  self-love.  It  was  natural  to 
Adam  and  just  in  his  innocence ;.  but  it  became  criminal  and 
immoderate  after  his  sin. 

Here  is  the  source  of  this  love,  and  the  cause  of  its  defect 
and  of  its  excess.  It  is  the  same  with  the  passion  of  ruling,  of 
indolence,  and  others.  The  application  is  easy.  Let  us  come 
to  our  single  subject.  The  dread  of  death  was  natural  to  in- 
nocent Adam,  because,  his  life  being  pleasing  to  God,  it  must 
have  been  pleasing  to  man :  and  death  was  terrible  when  it 
ended  a,  life  conformed  to  the  will  of  God.  Since,  man  having 
tinned,  his  life  has  become  corrupt,  his  body  and  soul  enemies 
U>  each  other,  and  both  to  God.  This  horrible  change  having 
infected  so  holy  a  life,  the  love  of  life  has  nevertheless  r& 


PASCAL. —  LETTERS.  429 

mained ;  and  the  dread  of  death  being  equally  felt,  that  which 
was  just  in  Adam  is  unjust  and  criminal  in  us. 

Such  is  the  origin  of  the  dread  of  death  and  the  cause  of  its 
faultiness.  Let  us  then  illumine  the  error  of  nature  by  the 
light  of  faith.  The  dread  of  death  is  natural,  but  it  is  in  the 
state  of  innocence ;  death  in  truth  is  terrible,  but  it  is  when  it 
puts  an  end  to  a  pure  life.  It  was  just  to  hate  it  when  it  sep- 
arated a  holy  soul  from  a  holy  body ;  but  it  is  just  to  love  it 
when  it  separates  a  holy  soul  from  an  impure  body.  It  was 
just  to  flee  it,  when  it  broke  the  peace  between  the  body  and 
the  soul ;  but  not  when  it  calms  the  irreconcilable  dissension 
between  them.  In  short,  when  it  afflicted  an  innocent  body, 
when  it  took  away  from  the  body  the  liberty  of  honoring  God, 
when  it  separated  from  the  soul  a  body  submissive  to  and 
co-operative  with  its  will,  when  it  put  an  end  to  all  the  good 
of  which  man  is  capable,  it  was  just  to  abhor  it ;  but  when  it 
puts  an  end  to  an  impure  life,  when  it  takes  away  from  the 
body  the  liberty  of  sinning,  when  it  delivers  the  soul  from  a 
powerful  rebel  that  contradicts  all  the  motives  for  its  salvation, 
it  is  very  unjust  to  preserve  the  same  feelings. 

Let  us  not  therefore  relinquish  this  love  for  life  which  nature 
has  given  us,  since  we  have  received  it  from  God ;  but  let  this 
be  for  the  same  life  for  which  God  has  given  it  to  us  and  not 
for  a  contrary  object.  In  consenting  to  the  love  that  Adam 
had  for  his  innocent  life  and  that  Jesus  Christ  himself  had  for 
his  own,  let  us  bring  ourselves  to  hate  a  life  contrary  to  that 
which  Jesus  Christ  has  loved,  and  only  to  fear  the  death  which 
Jesus  Christ  has  feared,  which  comes  to  a  body  pleasing  in 
God ;  but  not  to  fear  a  death  that,  punishing  a  guilty  body, 
and  purging  a  vicious  body,  ought  to  give  us  quite  contrary 
feelings,  if  we  have  any  thing  of  faith,  of  hope,  and  of  charity. 

It  is  one  of  the  great  principles  of  Christianity  that  every 
thing  that  happened  to  Jesus  Christ  should  take  place  in  the 
BOU!  and  the  body  of  each  Christian :  that  as  Jesus  Christ  suf- 
fered during  his  mortal  life,  died  to  this  mortal  life,  was  raised 
to  a  new  life,  ascended  to  heaven,  and  sitteth  at  the  right  hand 
of  the  Father;  so  the  body  and  soul  should  suffer,  die,  be 


430  PASCAL. LETTERS. 

raised  from  the  dead,  ascend  to  heaven,  and  sit  at  the  right 
hand  of  God.  All  these  things  are  accomplished  in  the  sou! 
during  life,  but  not  in  the  body.  The  soul  suffers  and  dies  to 
sin  in  penitence  and  in  baptism ;  the  soul  is  raised  again  to  a 
new  life  in  the  same  baptism ;  the  soul  quits  the  earth  and 
ascends  to  heaven  at  death,  and  takes  its  seat  at  the  right  hand 
of  God  at  the  time  that  he  appoints.  None  of  these  things 
happen  to  the  body  during  this  life ;  but  the  same  things  befall 
it  afterwards.  For  at  death  the  body  dies  to  its  mortal  life ; 
at  the  judgment  it  will  rise  to  a  new  life ;  after  the  judgment, 
it  will  ascend  to  heaven  and  will  sit  at  the  right  hand  of  God. 
Thus  the  same  things  happen  to  the  body  and  the  soul,  but  at 
different  times ;  and  the  changes  of  the  body  come  only  when 
those  of  the  soul  are  accomplished,  that  is  at  the  hour  of  death  : 
so  that  death  is  the  consummation  of  the  beatitude  of  the  soul 
and  the  commencement  of  the  beatitude  of  the  body. 

These  are  the  admirable  ways  of  the  wisdom  of  God  for  the 
salvation  of  his  saints,  and  St.  Augustine  teaches  us  on  this 
subject,  that  God  has  arranged  them  in  this  wise  for  fear  that 
if  the  body  of  man  should  die  and  rise  again  forever  at  bap- 
tism, men  would  only  enter  into  the  obedience  of  the  Gospel 
through  the  love  of  life ;  whilst  the  grandeur  of  faith  shines 
forth  far  more  when  it  tends  to  immortality  through  the 
shades  of  death. 

This  is,  certainly,  our  belief  and  the  faith  that  we  profess, 
and  I  believe  that  there  is  in  this  more  than  is  needed  to  aid 
your  consolations  by  my  small  efforts.  I  should  not  under- 
take to  carry  you  this  aid  of  myself;  but  as  these  are  only 
repetitions  of  what  I  have  learned,  I  give  them  with  assur- 
ance, praying  God  to  bless  these  seeds,  and  to  give  them 
growth,  for  without  him  we  can  do  nothing,  and  his  most  holy 
words  will  not  take  root  in  us,  as  he  himself  has  said. 

It  is  not  that  I  wish  that  you  should  be  without  feeling ; 
the  blow  is  too  sensible  ;  it  would  be  even  insupportable  with- 
out supernatural  aid.  It  is  not  therefore  right  that  we  should 
be  without  grief,  like  the  angels  who  have  no  sentiment  of  na- 
ture ;  neither  is  it  right  that  we  should  be  without  consolation, 


PASCAL. LETTERS.  431 

like  the  heathen  whc  have  no  sentiment  of  grace  :  but  it  is  right 
that  we  should  be  afflicted  and  consoled  like  Christians,  and 
that  the  consolations  of  grace  should  overcome  the  feelings  of 
nature ;  that  we  should  say  with  the  apostles :  "  We  are  afflicted 
but  not  cast  down,"  in  order  that  grace  may  not  only  be  in  us 
but  victorious  in  us  ;  that  thus,  in  sanctifying  the  name  of  our 
Father,  his  will  may  be  made  ours ;  that  his  grace  may  reign 
and  prevail  over  nature,  and  that  our  afflictions  may  be  as  the 
substance  of  a  sacrifice  which  his  grace  perfects  and  annihi- 
lates for  the  glory  of  God  ;  and  that  these  individual  sacrifices 
may  honor  and  precede  the  universal  sacrifice  wherein  all  na- 
ture should  be  perfected  by  the  power  of  Jesus  Christ.  Thus 
we  derive  advantage  from  our  own  imperfections,  since  they 
serve  as  material  for  this  sacrifice ;  for  it  is  the  aim  of  true 
Christians  to  profit  by  their  own  imperfections,  because  "  all 
things  work  together  for  good  to  the  elect." 

And  if  we  pay  close  attention  to  this,  we  shall  find  great 
advantages  for  our  edification,  in  considering  the  thing  truly 
as  we  said  just  now.  For,  since  it  is  true  that  the  death  of 
the  body  is  only  the  type  of  that  of  the  soul,  and  since  we. 
build  upon  the  principle  that  in  this  chance  we  have  all  possi- 
ble reason  to  hope  for  its  sure  salvation,  it  is  certain  that  if  we 
cannot  arrest  the  progress  of  grief,  we  should  derive  this  ben- 
efit, that  since  the  death  of  the  body  is  so  terrible  that  it  causes 
in  us  such  emotions,  that  of  the  soul  ought  to  cause  in  us  those 
far  more  inconsolable.  God  sends  us  the  first,  God  turns  away 
the  second.  Let  us  then  consider  the  greatness  of  our  bless- 
ings in  the  greatness  of  our  ills,  and  let  the  excess  of  our  grief 
be  in  proportion  to  that  of  our  joy. 

There  is  nothing  that  can  moderate  it,  except  the  fear  that 
he  may  languish  for  some  time  in  the  pains  which  are  des 
lined  to  purge  the  remains  of  the  sin  of  this  life,  and  we  ought 
carefully  to  apply  ourselves  to  appease  the  anger  of  God  to- 
ivards  him.  Prayer  and  sacrifices  are  a  sovereign  remedy  for 
his  pains.  But  I  have  learned  of  a  holy  man  in  our  affliction 
that  one  of  the  most  solid  and  useful  charities  towards  tho 
iead  is  to  do  the  things  that  they  would  command  were  they 


432  PASCAL. LETTERS. 

still  in  the  world,  to  practise  the  holy  advice  which  they  hav» 
given  us,  and  put  ourselves,  for  their  sakes,  in  the  condition  in 
which  they  would  wish  us  at  present.  By  this  practice,  we 
shall  in  some  sort  revive  them  in  ourselves,  since  their  coun- 
sels are  still  living  and  acting  within  us ;  and  as  heresiarchs 
are  punished  in  the  other  life  for  the  sins  into  which  they  have 
drawn  their  votaries,  in  whom  their  venom  is  still  living,  so  the 
dead  are  recompensed,  exclusive  of  their  own  merit,  for  those 
to  whom  they  have  given  succession  by  their  counsels  and 
their  example. 

Let  us  strive  then  with  all  our  power  to  revive  him  in  us 
before  God ;  and  let  us  console  ourselves  in  the  union  of  our 
hearts,  in  which  it  seems  to  me  that  he  still  lives,  and  that  our 
reunion  in  some  sort  restores  to  us  his  presence,  as  Jesua 
Christ  makes  himself  present  in  the  assembly  of  his  faithful. 

I  pray  God  to  form  and  to  maintain  these  sentiments  in  us, 
and  to  continue  those  which  it  appears  to  me  he  has  given 
me,  of  having  more  tenderness  than  ever  for  you  and  for  my 
sister ;  for  it  seems  to  me  that  the  love  that  we  had  for  my 
father  ought  not  to  be  lost,  and  that  we  should  make  a 
division  of  it  among  ourselves,  and  that  we  should  chiefly 
inherit  the  affection  which  he  bore  to  us,  to  love  each  other 
still  more  cordially  if  possible. 

I  pray  God  to  strengthen  us  in  these  resolutions,  and  in 
this  hope  I  entreat  you  to  permit  me  to  give  you  a  counsel 
which  indeed  you  could  take  without  me ;  but  I  shall  not 
refrain  from  giving  it.  It  is  that  after  having  found  grounds 
of  consolation  for  him,  we  shall  not  come  to  lack  them  for 
ourselves  by  dwelling  upon  the  need  and  the  utility  that  we 
shall  have  of  his  presence. 

It  is  I  who  am  the  most  interested  in  it.  If  I  had  lost  him 
six  yeais  ago,  I  should  have  lost  myself,  and  although  I  be- 
lieve my  necessity  of  him  at  present  to  be  less  absolute,  I 
know  that  he  would  still  have  been  necessary  to  me  ten  years 
and  useful  all  my  life.  But  we  should  hope  that  God  having 
ordered  it  in  such  a  time,  such  a  place  and  such  a  manner,  it  ia 
doubtless  the  most  expedient  for  his  gloryand  for  our  salvation. 


PASCAL. LETTEE8.  433 

However  strange  this  may  appear,  I  believe  that  we  should 
regard  all  events  in  the  same  manner,  and  that,  however  sinis- 
ter they  may  appear  to  us,  we  should  hope  that  God  would 
draw  from  them  a  source  of  joy  to  us  if  we  will  but  intrust 
the  direction  of  them  to  him.  We  know  of  persons  of  con- 
dition who  have  feared  the  death  of  relatives  which  God  has 
perhaps  averted  at  their  prayer,  who  have  caused  or  been  the 
occasion  of  so  much  misery  that  there  was  reason  to  wish  that 
the  prayers  had  not  been  granted. 

Man  is  assuredly  too  weak  to  judge  soundly  of  the  result 
of  future  things.  Let  us  therefore  hope  in  God,  and  let  us  not 
weary  ourselves  by  rash  and  indiscreet  forecasts.  Let  us  com- 
mit ourselves  then  to  God  for  the  direction  of  our  lives,  and 
that  grief  may  not  prevail  within  us. 

St.  Augustine  teaches  us  that  there  is  in  every  man  a  ser- 
pent, an  Eve  and  an  Adam.  The  serpent  is  the  senses  and 
our  nature,  the  Eve  is  the  concupiscible  appetite,  and  the 
Adam  is  the  reason.  Nature  tempts  us  continually,  concu- 
piscible appetite  often  fills  us  with  desires,  but  the  sin  is  not 
consummated  if  reason  does  not  consent.  Let  the  serpent 
and  the  Eve  therefore  act  if  we  cannot  hinder  it ;  but  let  us 
pray  to  God  that  his  grace  may  so  strengthen  our  Adam  that 
he  may  remain  victorious ;  and  that  Jesus  Christ  may  be  the 
conqueror  over  him  and  may  reign  eternally  in  us.  Amen. 


EXTRACT  FROM  A  LETTER  OF  M.  PASCAL  TO  M.  PARISH. 

PARIS,  Friday,  Jnne  6, 1653. 

I  have  just  received  your  letter,  inclosing  that  of  my  sister, 
which  I  have  not  had  leisure  to  read,  and  moreover  believe 
that  this  would  be  useless. 

My  sister  made  her  profession  yesterday,  Thursday,  the  5th 
of  June,  1653.  It  was  impossible  for  me  to  delay  her:  the 
Messieurs  of  Port  Royal  feared  that  a  slight  delay  might  bring 
on  a  greater  one,  and  wished  to  hasten  it  for  the  reason  that 

19 


PASCAL.  -  LETTERS. 


they  hope  ere  long  to  put  her  in  office  ;  and  consequently,  it 
was  necessary  to  hasten,  because  for  this  several  years  of  pro- 
fession are  needed.  This  is  the  way  they  paid  me.  In  fine, 
I  could  not.  etc. 


EXTRACT  FROM  A  LETTER  TO  MADAME  PERIER,  UPON  THE  PRO- 
JECTED MARRIAGE  OF  MADEMOISELLE  JACQUELINE  P&RIER. 

1659. 

In  general,  their  advice  was  that  you  could  in  no  way,  with- 
out mortally  wounding  charity  and  your  conscience,  and  ren- 
dering yourself  guilty  of  one  of  the  greatest  crimes,  pledge  a 
child  of  her  age  and  innocence,  and  even  of  her  piety,  to  the 
most  perilous  and  lowest  of  the  conditions  of  Christianity. 
That  indeed,  according  to  the  world,  the  affair  had  no  diffi- 
culty, and  she  was  to  conclude  it  without  hesitation ;  but  that 
according  to  God,  she  had  less  difficulty  in  it,  and  she  was  to 
reject  it  without  hesitation,  because  the  condition  of  an  advan- 
tageous marriage  is  as  desirable  in  the  opinion  of  the  world  as 
it  is  vile  and  prejudicial  in  the  sight  of  God.  That  not  know- 
ing to  what  she  may  be  called,  nor  whether  her  temperament 
may  not  be  so  tranquil  that  she  can  support  her  virginity  with 
piety,  it  were  little  to  know  the  value  of  it  to  pledge,  her  to 
lose  this  good  so  desirable  to  every  one  in  himself,  and  so  de- 
sirable to  fathers  and  mothers  for  their  children,  since  as  they 
can  no  longer  desire  it  for  themselves,  it  is  in  them  that  they 
should  strive  to  render  to  God  what  they  have  lost  in  general 
for  other  causes  than  for  God. 

Besides,  that  husbands,  although  rich  and  wise  in  the  opin- 
ion of  the  world,  are  in  truth  complete  pagans  in  the  sight  oi 
God ;  so  that  the  last  words  of  these  gentlemen  are  that  to 
pledge  a  child  to  an  ordinary  man  is  a  species  of  homicide  and 
*  deicide  as  it  were  in  their  own  persons.1 

1  Upon  what  revolves  all  human  life?  upon  marriage  and  society.  Now 
Pascal  declares  marriage  a  homicide  and  almost  a  deicide,  and  absolute 
»oMude  is  to  him  the  imperative  condition  of  salvation.  .  .  .  Sublime  but 


PASCAL. —  LETTEBS.  435 


NOTE  FROM  PASCAL  TO  THE  MARCHIONESS  DE 

DECEMBER,  1660. 

Although  I  am  much  embarrassed,  I  can  no  longer  defer 
rendering  you  a  thousand  thanks  for  having  procured  me  the 
acquaintance  of  M.  Menjot ;  for  it  is  doubtless  to  you,  Madame, 
that  I  owe  it;  and  as  I  esteemed  him  highly  already  from  the 
things  which  my  sister  had  told  me  of  him,  I  cannot  tell  you 
with  how  much  joy  I  have  received -the  favor  which  he  has 
wished  to  render  me.  It  is  only  necessary  to  read  his  letter  to 
see  how  much  intellect  and  judgment  he  possesses ;  and  although 
I  may  not  be  capable  of  understanding  the  depth  of  the  matters 
which  he  treats  in  his  book,*  I  will  tell  you,  nevertheless,  Ma- 
dame, that  I  have  learned  much  from  the  manner  in  which  he 
reconciles  in  a  few  words  the  immateriality  of  the  soul  with  the 
power  of  matter  to  change  its  functions  and  to  cause  delirium. 
I  am  very  impatient  to  have  the  honor  to  converse  with  you  on  it. 


FRAGMENT  OF  A  LETTER  TO  M. 

1661. 

You  give  me  pleasure  by  sending  me  all  the  details  of  your 
controversies,  and  chiefly  because  you  are  interested  therein  ; 

but  manifest  folly  I  Plato  inclines  to  it  in  some  passages,  but  Socrates  and 
the  Graces  restrain  him,  while  Pascal  precipitates  himself  into  it  entire 
*ith  the  impetuosity  of  logic  and  of  passion. — Cousin. 

1  Portfolio  of  Doctor  Valant,  the  physician  of  Madame  de  Sable,  t.  ii, 
No.  288.  This  billet  has  neither  date  nor  signature.  It  is  nevertheless 
•ertaiuly  from  Pascal ;  for  No.  299  is  a  letter  of  acknowledgment  from 
he  physician  Menjot  to  Madame  de  Sable  for  the  billet  of  Pascal  which 
«he  had  transmitted  to  him  through  Doctor  Valant. 

1  Is  this  the  Historia  et  Curatio  febrium  malignarum  o/"1662  ?  This  would 
ftx  the  date  of  this  billet  in  the  same  year  as  the  death  of  Pascal. 

»  Bossut  was  the  first  to  publish  the  fragment  of  a  letter  of  Pascal,  begin- 
ning with  the  words :  "  We  avail  ourselves  badly,  as  it  appears  to  me,  of 
the  advantage,  etc.,"  without  saying  where  he  had  procured  the  fragment. 
We  find  it  in  the  Recuett  of  M,  Perier,  with  a  beginning  which  seems  to 
indicate  that  this  letter  was  addressed  to  M.  Pe"rier,  who  also  had  a  quarrel 
with  the  Jesuits  of  Clermont. — Gvutln. 


436  PASCAL. LETTEK8. 

for  I  imagine  that  you  do  not  imitate  our  controversialists  of 
this  country,  who  avail  themselves  so  badly,  at  least  so  it 
seems  to  me,  of  the  advantage  which  God  offers  them  of  suf- 
fering something  for  the  establishment  of  his  truths.  For,  if 
this  were  for  the  establishment  of  their  truths,  they  would  not 
ac*  differently ;  and  it  seems  that  they  are  ignorant  that  the 
same  Providence  that  has  inspired  some  with  light,  has  re- 
fused  it  to  others ;  and  it  seems  that  in  laboring  to  persuade 
them  of  it  they  are  serving  another  God  than  the  one  who  per- 
mits the  obstacles  that  oppose  their  progress.  They  think  to 
render  service  to  God  by  murmuring  against  the  hindrances, 
as  if  this  were  another  power  that  should  excite  their  piety,  and 
another  that  should  give  vigor  to  those  who  oppose  them. 

This  is  what  comes  of  self-will.  When  we  wish  by  our  own 
efforts  that  something  shall  succeed,  we  become  irritated  with 
obstacles,  because  we  feel  in  these  hindrances  that  the  motive 
that  makes  us  act  has  not  placed  them  there,  and  we  find 
things  in  them  which  the  self-will  that  makes  us  act  has  not 
formed  there. 

But  when  God  inspires  our  actions,  we  never  feel  any  thing 
outside  that  does  not  come  from  the  same  principle  that  causes 
us  to  act ;  there  is  no  opposition  in  the  motive  that  impels  us ; 
the  same  motive  power  which  leads  us  to  act,  leads  others  to 
resist  us,  or  permits  them  at  least ;  so  that  as  we  find  no  dif- 
ference in  this,  and  as  it  is  not  our  own  will  that  combats  ex- 
ternal events,  but  the  same  will  that  produces  the  good  and 
permits  the  evil,  this  uniformity  does  not  trouble  the  peace  of 
the  soul,  and  is  one  of  the  best  tokens  that  we  are  acting  by 
the  will  of  God,  since  it  is  much  more  certain  that  God  permits 
ihe  evil,  however  great  it  may  be,  than  that  God  causes  the 
good  in  us  (and  not  some  secret  motive),  however  great  it  may 
appear  to  us ;  so  that  in  order  really  to  perceive  whether  it  its 
God  that  makes  us  act,  it  is  much  better  to  test  ourselves  by 
our  deportment  without  than  by  our  motives  within,  since  if 
we  only  examine  ourselves  within,  although  we  may  find  noth- 
ing but  good  there,  we  cannot  assure  ourselves  that  this  good 
comes  truly  from  God.  But  when  we  examine  ourselves  with 


PASCAL. —  LETTEBfl.  437 

ant,  that  is  when  we  consider  whether  we  suffer  external  hin- 
drances with  patience,  this  signifies  that  there  is  a  uniformity 
of  will  between  the  motive  power  that  inspires  our  passions 
and  the  one  that  permits  the  resistance  to  them ;  and  as  there 
is  no  doubt  that  it  is  God  who  permits  the  one,  we  have  a 
right  humbly  to  hope  that  it  is  God  who  produces  the  other. 

But  what !  we  act  as  if  it  were  our  mission  to  make  truth 
triumph  whilst  it  is  only  our  mission  to  combat  for  it.  The 
desire  to  conquer  is  so  natural  that  when  it  is  covered  by  the 
desire  of  making  the  truth  triumph,  we  often  take  the  one  for 
the  other,  and  think  that  we  are  seeking  the  glory  of  God 
when  in  truth  we  are  seeking  our  own.  It  seems  to  me  that 
the  way  in  which  we  support  these  hindrances  is  the  surest 
token  of  it,  for  in  fine  if  we  wish  only  the  order  established  by 
God,  it  is  certain  that  we  wish  the  triumph  of  his  justice  as 
much  as  that  of  his  mercy,  and  that  when  it  does  not  come  of 
our  negligence,  we  shall  be  in  an  equal  mood,  whether  the 
truth  be  known  or  whether  it  be  combated,  since  in  the  one 
the  mercy  of  God  triumphs,  and  in  the  other,  his  justice. 

Pater  juste,  mundus  te  non  cognovit.  Righteous  father,  the 
world  has  not  known  thee.  Upon  which  St.  Augustine  says 
that  it  is  through  his  justice  that  the  world  has  not  known  him. 
Let  us  pray,  labor,  and  rejoice  evermore,  as  St.  Paul  says. 

If  you  had  reproved  me  in  my  first  faults,  I  should  not  have 
been  guilty  of  this,  and  should  have  been  moderate.  But  I 
shall  not  suppress  this  any  more  than  the  other ;  you  can  sup- 
press it  yourself  if  you  wish  I  could  not  refrain,  so  atgry  am 
I  against  those  who  insist  absolutely  that  the  truth  shall  be 
believed  when  they  demonstrate  it,  which  Jesus  Christ  did  not 
do  in  his  created  humanity.  It  is  a  mockery,  and  it  seems  to 
me  treating  ....  I  am  grieved  on  account  of  the  malady  of 
VI.  de  Laporte.  I  assure  you  that  I  ho^or  him  with  all  my 
heart.  I,  etc. 


438  PASCAL. LETTEBfl. 

LETTER  TO  MADAME  PERIER. 
(Addressed  :  A  Mademoiselle  Pe'rier  la  Conseillere.) 

BOUEN,  Saturday,  the  last  of  January,  164*. 
Mr  DEAR  SISTER, 

I  doubt  not  that  you  have  been  greatly  troubled  at  the 
length  of  time  in  which  you  have  received  no  news  from  these 
parts.  But  I  think  that  you  must  have  suspected  that  the 
•ourney  of  the  Elus  has  been  the  cause,  as  in  fact  it  was.  Had 
it  not  been  for  this,  I  should  not  have  failed  to  write  to  you 
oftener.  I  have  to  tell  you  that  Messieurs  the  commissioners 
being  at  Gizors,  my  father  made  me  take  a  tour  to  Paris, 
where  I  found  a  letter  which  you  had  written,  in  which  you 
say  that  you  are  surprised  that  I  reproach  you  that  you  do  not 
write  often  enough,  and  in  which  you  tell  me  that  you  write  to 
Rouen  once  every  week.  It  is  very  certain,  if  this  is  so,  that 
the  letters  are  lost,  for  I  do  not  receive  one  once  in  three  weeks. 
On  my  return  to  Rouen,  I  found  a  letter  from  M.  Perier,  who 
writes  that  you  are  ill.  He  does  not  write  whether  your 
sickness  is  dangerous  or  whether  you  are  better ;  and  an  un- 
usual length  of  time  has  passed  since  without  having  received 
any  letter,  so  that  we  are  in  an  anxiety  from  which  I  pray  you 
to  relieve  us  as  soon  as  possible ;  but  I  think  the  prayer  I 
make  you  will  be  useless,  for  before  you  shall  have  received 
this  letter,  I  hope  that  we  shall  have  received  letters  from 
you  or  from  M.  Perier.  The  department  is  finished,  God  be 
praised.  If  I  knew  of  any  thing  new,  I  would  let  you  know  it 
I  am,  my  dear  sister,  etc. 

Postscript  in  the  handwriting  of  Etienne  Pascal,  the  father  • 
**  My  dear  daughter  will  excuse  me  if  I  do  not  write  to  her  a* 
I  wished,  having  no  leisure  for  it ;  for  I  have  never  been  in  a 
tenth  part  the  perplexity  that  I  am  at  present.  I  could  not 
be  more  so  without  being  overwhelmed ;  for  the  last  four 
months  I  have  not  been  in  bed  six  tinres  before  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning. 


PASCAL. —  LETTERS.  43  9 

"  I  lately  commenced  a  jesting  letter  upon  the  subject  of 
your  last,  concerning  the  marriage  of  M.  Desjcux,  but  I  have 
never  had  leisure  to  finish  it.  For  news,  the  daughter  of  M. 
de  Paris,  maitre  des  comptes,  the  wife  of  M.  de  Neufirlle,  also 
maltre  des  comptes,  is  dead,  as  well  as  the  daughter  of  Belair 
the  wife  of  young  Lambert.  Your  little  boy  slept  here  last 
night.  He  is  very  well,  thank  God. 

"  I  am  ever  your  true  and  affectionate  friend, 

PASCAL." 

Your  very  humble  and  affectionate  servant  and  brother, 

PASCAL. 


NOTE  FROM  PASCAL  TO  HIS  SISTER,  MADAME  PERIER.' 
(Superscribed,  To  Mademoiselle a  Pdrier,  at  Clermont,  in  Auveigne.) 

MY  DEAR  SISTER, 

I  do  not  believe  that  it  is  quite  right  that  you  should  be 
vexed ;  for,  if  you  are  not  so  because  we  have  forgotten 
you,  then  you  ought  not  to  be  at  all.  I  tell  you  no  news, 
for  there  is  too  much  that  is  general,  and  there  must  always 
be  too  much  that  is  private.  I  should  have  much  to  tell 
you  that  happens  in  complete  secrecy,3  but  I  regard  it  as 
useless  to  send  it  to  you ;  all  that  I  pray  you  is,  to  mingle 
acts  of  grace  with  the  prayers  which  you  make  for  me,  and 
which  I  entreat  you  to  multiply  at  this  time.  I  carried  your 
letter  myself  with  the  aid  of  God,  in  order  that  it  might  be 
forwarded  to  Madame  de  Maubuisson.  They  gave  me  a  little 

i  This  note  comes  from  the  family  papers  of  M.  Hecquet-d'Orval,  of 
Abbeville",  a  descendant  of  M.  Hecquet,  a  celebrated  Jansenist  physician 
ef  the  seventeenth  century.  It  is  witnout  signature  or  date.  But  as  the 
.oeetings  are  in  question  in  it  that  were  held  for  the  signature  of  the  formu- 
ary,  it  may  be  placed,  like  the  preceding,  about  the  year  1660  or  1661. 

a  The  title  of  Madame  was  only  applied  to  women  of  elevated  condition. 

*  "  M.  Pascal  refers  here  to  what  was  discussed  at  Paris  in  the  meeting! 
that  were  held  respecting  the  signature  of  the  formulary.  See  the  Supple- 
v*ent  au  Necrologe  de  Port-R<iyal,  p.  460." — (Old  note  written  in  the  mar 
fin  of  the  letter  by  a  member  of  the  family  of  M.  Hecquct-d'Orval.) 


440  PASCAL. LETTERS. 

book,  in  which  this  sentence  was  written  with  the  hand.1  I 
know  not  whether  it  is  in  the  little  book  of  sentences,  but 
it  is  beautiful.  I  am  so  much  hurried  that  I  can  say  no  more 
Do  not  fail  in  your  fasts.  Adieu. 


LETTERS  TO  MADEMOISELLE  DE  ROANNEZ.* 
I. 

1856. 

In  order  to  answer  all  the  points  upon  which  you  address 
me,  and,  indeed,  to  write,  although  my  time  is  limited. 

1  It  is  wanting  here. 

a  Charlotte  Gouffier  de  Koannez,  sister  of  the  duke  of  this  name,  the 
friend  of  Pascal,  and  one  of  the  editors  of  the  Thoughts.  Mile,  de  Roan- 
nez  may  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  victims,  most  to  be  lamented,  of  the 
proselytism  of  Port-Royal.  Received  as  a  novice  in  this  celebrated  house 
in  1657,  after  having  escaped  by  stealth  from  her  mother,  she  took  simple 
vows  of  virginity,  but  she  did  not  assume  the  veil,  because  she  was  con- 
strained by  a  lettre  de  cachet  to  return  to  her  family.  She  lived  there  a  long 
time  in  retreat,  sustained  and  exalted  in  her  devotion  by  Pascal,  Madame 
Perier,  and  M.  Singlin.  But,  some  years  after  her  leaving  Port-Royal,  she 
espoused  the  Duke  de  Fenillade,  in  1667,  after  a  council  of  conscience,  that 
authorized  her  to  put  off  the  vows  of  virginity  which  she  had  taken  on 
entering  Port-Royal.  There  was  nothing  unnatural  in  all  this ;  but  the 
Jansenists  thought  quite  otherwise ;  they  reproached  with  extreme  sever- 
ity the  Duchess  de  la  Feuillade  with  what  they  called  her  fall,  and  this 
noble  woman,  worthy  in  every  respect  of  a  treatment  less  severe,  "  and 
Thorn  a  fierce  zeal,"  says  M.  Cousin,  "  disputed  so  long  with  the  most 
egitimate  ties  of  nature  and  of  the  world,  and  who,  divided  with  herself 
.n  this  terrible  conflict,  finally  died  a  miserable  death,  charged  with  the 
anathemas  of  Port-Royal,  unhappy  and  in  despair  for  having  been  an 
obedient  daughter,  and  an  irreproachable  wife ;"  this  noble  woman  conse- 
crated the  rest  of  her  life  to  penitence,  often  saying  that  she  would  have 
been  more  happy  in  living  a  paralytic  at  Port-Royal  than  as  she  lived  in 
her  exalted  fortune.  She  died  of  a  cancer  in  the  breast  in  1683,  after  »av- 
ing  given  birth  to  four  children,  of  whom  "  the  first,"  says  the  Recneil 
i'1  Utrecht,  "  did  not  receive  baptism ;  the  second  came  into  the  world  quite 
deformed ;  the  third  was  a  female  dwarf,  who  died  at  the  age  of  nineteen  ; 
the  fourth  was  M.  de  la  Feuillade,  who  died  in  172o  without  issue." — See 
on  the  Duchess  de  la  Feuillade,  the  necrology  of  Port-Royal  of  13th  of 
February,  and  a  Notice  of  Marguerite  Perier,  published  by  M.  O^ssin,  ii 
the  Biblwtheque  de  VEcolt  des  Chartes,  September  and  October,  1843.  A» 


PASCAL. —  LETTERS.  441 

I  am  delighted  that  you  like  the  book  of  M.  de  Laval,1  and 
the  Meditations  on  Grace ;  I  draw  from  this  important  conclu- 
sions for  what  I  desire. 

I  send  the  details  of  this  condemnation  which  had  fright- 
ened2 you :  it  is  nothing  at  all,  thank  God,  and  it  is  a  miracle 
that  nothing  worse  is  done,  since  the  enemies  of  truth  have  the 
power  and  the  will  to  oppress  him.  Perhaps  you  are  of  those 
who  merit  not  to  be  abandoned  by  God,  and  removed  from  an 
undeserving  world,  and  he  is  assured  that  you  will  serve  the 
Church  by  your  prayers,  if  the  Church  has  served  you  by  hers. 
For  it  is  the  Church  that  merits  with  Jesus  Christ,  who  is  in- 
separable from  her,  the  conversion  of  all  those  who  are  not  in 
the  truth ;  and  it  is  in  turn  these  converted  persons  who  succor 
the  mother  who  has  delivered  them.  I  praise  with  all  my 
heart  the  little  zeal  that  I  have  recognized  in  your  letter  for 
the  union  with  the  pope.  The  body  is  not  more  living  without 
the  head,  than  the  head  without  the  body.  Whoever  sepa- 
rates himself  from  the  one  or  the  other  is  no  longer  of  the 
body,  and  belongs  no  more  to  Jesus  Christ.  I  know  not 
whether  there  are  persons  in  the  Church  more  attached  to  this 
unity  of  body  than  those  that  you  call  ours.  We  know  that 
ill  the  virtues,  martyrdom,  the  austerities  and  all  good  works 
are  useless  out  of  the  Church,  and  out  of  communion  with  the 
head  of  the  Church,  which  is  the  pope.  I  will  never  separate 


extract  from  this  notice  has  also  been  published  by  M.  Faugere,  in  his 
Dens(e»  de  Pascal,  t.  i,  p.  3S1  ft  sequent. 

The  letters  of  Pascal  to  Mile,  de  Koannez  are  nine  in  number;  they 
are  of  considerable  length,  and  make  more  than  thirty  pages  of  the  edition 
of  Port-Royal.  They  paint  to  us  Pascal,  no  longer,  as  in  1651,  retaining 
the  natural  affections  in  the  midst  of  the  progress  of  a  piety  still  rationa] 
•mt  Pascal,  under  the  discipline  of  the  Abbe  Singlin,  engaged  in  the  sub 
Line  littlenesses  of  Port-Royal,  charmed  and  almost  putfVl  up  with  th 
uiracles  of  the  holy  thorn,  plunging  each  day  deeper,  and  precipitating 
others  into  the  extremes  of  an  exaggerated  devotion. — Cou-iin. 

1  Pseudonym  under  which  the  Duke  de  Luyues  published  different 
wurks  of  piety,  among  others,  Sentences  drawnfr^m  Holy  Scripture  and  th* 
Fathers. 

a  The  allusion  is  probably  to  the  censure  of  the  Sorbonne  against  Ar- 
tauld,  in  1656. 


4:4.2  PASCAL. LETTERS. 

myself  from  his  communion,  at  least  I  pray  God  to  give  me 
this  grace,  without  which  I  should  be  lost  forever. 

I  make  to  you  a  sort  of  profession  of  faith,  and  I  know  not 
wherefore ;  but  I  would  neither  efface  it  nor  commence  it 
Again. 

M.  Du  Gas  has  spoken  to  me  this  morning  of  your  letter 
with  as  much  astonishment  and  joy  as  it  is  possible  to  have  : 
he  knows  not  where  you  have  taken  what  he  has  reported  to 
me  of  your  words ;  he  has  said  to  me  surprising  things,  that 
no  longer  surprise  me  so  much.  I  begin  to  accustom  myself 
to  you  and  to  the  grace  that  God  gives  you,  and  nevertheless 
I  avow  to  you  that  it  is  to  me  always  new,  as  it  is  always  new 
in  reality. 

For  it  is  a  continual  flow  of  graces  that  the  Scripture  com- 
pares to  a  river,  and  to  the  light  which  the  sun  continually 
emits  from  itself,  and  is  always  new,  so  that  if  it  ceased  an 
instant  to  emit  them,  all  that  we  have  received  would  disap- 
pear, and  we  should  remain  in  darkness. 

He  has  said  to  me  that  he  had  begun  a  response  to  you, 
<md  that  he  would  transcribe  it  to  render  it  more  legible,  and 
that,  at  the  same  time,  he  would  extend  it.  But  he  has  just 
sent  it  to  me  with  a  little  note,  wherein  he  informs  me  that  he 
has  been  able  neither  to  transcribe  it  nor  to  extend  it ;  this 
makes  me  think  that  it  will  be  ill-written.  But  I  am  a  witness 
of  his  want  of  leisure,  and  of  his  desire  that  he  had  leisure  for 
your  sake. 

I  take  part  in  the  joy  that  the  affair  of  the  . . .'  will  afford 
you,  for  I  see  clearly  that  you  are  interested  for  the  Church  : 
you  are  indeed  under  obligations  to  her.  For  sixteen  hundred 
years  she  has  groaned  for  you.  It  is  time  to  groan  for  her 
and  for  us  altogether,  and  to  give  her  all  that  remains  to  us  o. 
life  since  Jesus  Christ  has  assumed  life  only  to  lose  it  for  her 
»na  for  us. 

1  In  the  manuscript  of  the  Oratory :  of  the  Nuns. — Fauglrt 


PASCAL. LETTERS.  44  3 

II. 

v)CTOi>ER,  1656. 

It  seems  to  me  that  you  take  sufficient  interest  in  the  mira- 
rle  to  send  you  particular  notice  that  its  verification  is  con- 
summated by  the  Church,  as  you  will  see  by  the  sentence  of 
the  grand  vicar. 

There  are  so  few  persons  to  whom  God  would  manifest 
himself  by  these  extraordinary  acts,  that  we  ought  indeed  to 
profit  by  these  occasions,  since  he  does  not  leave  the  secrecy 
of  the  nature  that  covers  him  but  to  excite  our  faith  to  serve 
him  with  so  much  the  more  ardor  as  we  know  him  with  the 
more  certainty. 

If  God  discovered  himself  continually  to  men,  there  would 
be  no  merit  in  believing  him ;  and,  if  he  never  discovered 
himself,  there  would  be  little  faith.  But  he  conceals  himself 
ordinarily  and  discovers  himself  rarely  to  those  whom  he 
wishes  to  engage  in  his  service.  This  strange  secrecy,  in 
which  God  is  impenetrably  withdrawn  from  the  sight  of  men, 
is  a  great  lesson  to  betake  ourselves  to  solitude  far  from  the 
sight  of  men.  He  remained  concealed  under  the  veil  of  the 
nature  that  covers  him  till  the  Incarnation  ;  and  when  it  was 
necessary  that  he  should  appear,  he  concealed  himself  still  the 
more  in  covering  himself  with  humanity.  He  was  much 
more  recognizable  when  he  was  invisible  than  when  he  ren- 
dered himself  visible.  And  in  fine,  when  he  wished  to  fulfil 
the  promise  that  he  made  to  his  apostles  to  remain  with  men 
until  his  final  coming,  he  chose  to  remain  in  the  strangest 
and  most  obscure  secret  of  all,  which  are  the  species  of  the  Eu- 
charist. It  is  this  sacrament  that  St.  John  calls  in  the  Apoc- 
alypse a  concealed  manner ;  and  I  believe  that  Isaiah  saw  it  in 
that  state,  when  he  said  in  the  spirit  of  prophecy  :  Truly  thou 
irt  a  God  concealed.  This  is  the  last  secrecy  wherein  he  can 
ue.  The  veil  of  nature  that  covers  God  has  been  penetrated 
by  some  of  the  unbelieving,  who,  as  St.  Paul  says,  have  recog- 
nized an  invisible  God  in  visible  nature.  Heretical  Christians 
uave  recognized  him  through  his  humanity  and  adored  Jesus 
dhrist  God  and  man.  But  to  recognize  him  under  the  specie* 


144  PASCAL. LETTERS. 

of  bread  is  peculiar  to  Catholics  alone  :  none  but  us  are  thus 
enlightened  by  God.  We  may  add  to  these  considerations 
the  secrecy  of  the  spirit  of  God  concealed  still  in  the  Scrip- 
ture. For  there  are  two  perfect  senses,  the  literal  and  the 
mystical ;  and  the  Jews,  stopping  at  the  one,  do  not  even  think 
that  there  is  another,  and  take  no  thought  for  searching  it  out, 
iust  a&  the  impious,  seeing  natural  effects,  attribute  them  to 
nature,  without  thinking  that  there  is  another  author,  and,  as 
the  Jews,  seeing  a  perfect  man  in  Jesus  Christ,  have  not 
thought  to  seek  in  him  another  nature :  We  had  not  thought 
that  it  was  he,  again  says  Isaiah  :  and  just  as,  in  fine,  the  her- 
etics, seeing  the  perfect  appearances  of  bread  in  the  Eucharist, 
do  not  think  to  see  in  it  another  substance.  All  things  cover 
some  mystery ;  all  things  have  veils  that  cover  God.  Chris- 
tians ought  to  recognize  him  in  every  thing.  Temporal  afflic- 
tions cover  eternal  goods  to  which  they  lead.  Temporal  joys 
cover  eternal  ills  that  they  cause.  Let  us  pray  God  to  make 
us  recognize  and  serve  him  in  every  thing ;  let  us  give  him 
countless  thanks  that,  having  concealed  himself  in  all  things 
for  others,  he  has  discovered  himself  in  all  things  and  in  so 
many  ways  for  us. 

III. 

I  know  not  how  you  have  taken  the  loss  of  your  letters.  I 
could  wish  indeed  that  you  may  have  taken  it  as  you  ought. 
It  is  time  to  begin  to  judge  of  what  is  good  or  bad  by  the  will 
of  God,  who  can  be  neither  unjust  nor  blind,  and  not  by  our 
own,  which  is  always  full  of  malice  and  error.  If  you  have 
had  these  sentiments,  I  shall  be  greatly  pleased,  inasmuch  as 
you  will  have  received  consolation  for  a  more  valid  reason 
than  that  which  I  have  to  communicate  to  you,  which  is  that 
I  hope  that  they  are  found  again.  That  of  the  5th  has  already 
been  brought  to  me ;  and  although  it  is  not  the  most  impor- 
tant (for  that  of  M.  du  Gas  is  more  so),  nevertheless  this  makes 
me  hope  to  recover  the  other. 

I  know  not  why  you  complain  that  I  have  written  nothing 
far  you, — I  do  not  separate  you  two,  and  continually  think  of 


PASCAL. —  LETTERS.  445 

both.  You  see  plainly  that  ray  other  letters,  and  this  also,  re 
fer  sufficiently  to  you.  In  truth,  I  cannqt  refrain  from  telling 
you  that  I  could  wish  to  be  infallible  in  my  judgments ;  you 
would  not  be  badly  off  if  that  were  the  case,  for  I  am  very  much 
pleased  with  you  ;  but  my  judgment  is  nothing.  I  say  this  with 
reference  to  the  manner  in  which  I  see  you  speak  of  that  good 
persecuted  friar,  and  of  what  ***  does.  I  am  not  surprised 
tu  see  M.  N.  interested  in  the  matter,  I  am  accustomed  to  his 
zeal,  but  yours  is  wholly  new  ;  this  new  language  is  usually  the 
product  of  a  new  heart.  Jesus  Christ  has  given  in  the  Church 
this  sign  whereby  to  recognize  those  who  have  faith, — that 
they  shall  speak  a  new  language ;  and  in  fact  the  renewal  of 
thoughts  and  desires  causes  that  of  discourse.  What  you  say 
of  days  passed  in  solitude,  and  the  consolation  afforded  you 
by  reading,  are  things  that  M.  N.  will  be  extremely  happy 
to  know  when  I  shall  make  him  acquainted  with  them,  and 
my  sister  also.  These  certainly  are  new  things,  but  they  must 
be  unceasingly  renewed,  for  this  newness,  which  cannot  be  dis- 
pleasing to  God  as  the  old  man  cannot  be  pleasing  to  him,  is 
different  from  earthly  novelties,  inasmuch  as  worldly  things, 
however  new  they  may  be,  grow  old  as  they  endure ;  whilst 
this  new  spirit  is  renewed  the  more,  the  longer  it  endures. 
Our  old  man  perishes,  says  St.  Paul,  and  is  renewed  day  by 
day,  and  will  be  perfectly  new  only  in  eternity,  when  shall  be 
sung  without  ceasing  that  new  song  of  which  David  speaks  in 
the  Psalms;  that  is  the  song  that  springs  from  the  new  spirit 
of  love. 

I  will  tell  you  for  news,  of  what  concerns  these  two  persons, 
that  I  clearly  perceive  their  zeal  does  not  grow  cold ;  this 
surprises  me,  for  it  is  much  more  rare  to  see  continuation  in 
piety  than  to  see  entrance  upon  it.  I  have  them  always  in 
mind,  especially  her  of  the  miracle,  because  there  is  something 
in  her  case  more  extraordinary,  although  the  other  may  be 
also  very  extraordinary  and  almost  without  example.  It  is 
tertain  that  the  graces  conferred  by  God  in  this  life  are  the 
tieasure  of  the  glory  prepared  by  him  for  the  other.  Thus 
when  I  foresee  the  end  and  crown  of  this  work  by  the  com- 


446  PASCAL. LETTERS. 

mencements  that  appear  in  pious  persons,  I  feel  a  veneration 
that  overcomes  me  with  respect  towards  those  whom  he  seems 
to  have  chosen  for  his  elect.  I  confess  to  you  that  it  seems 
ko  me  that  I  see  them  already  on  one  of  those  thrones  where 
those  who  shall  have  left  all  will  judge  the  world  with  Jesus 
Christ,  according  to  the  promise  that  he  has  made.  But 
when  I  come  to  think  that  these  same  persons  may  fall,  and 
be  en  the  contrary,  of  the  unfortunate  number  of  the  judged, 
and  that  there  will  be  so  many  of  them  who  will  fall  from 
glory  and  leave  to  others  by  their  negligence  the  crown  that 
God  had  offered  them,  I  cannot  bear  the  thought;  and  the 
distress  that  I  should  feel  in  seeing  them  in  this  eternal  state 
of  misery,  after  having  imagined  them  with  so  much  reason 
in  the  other  state,  makes  me  turn  my  mind  from  the  idea  and 
recur  to  God  in  order  to  pray  him  not  to  abandon  the  weak 
creatures  that  he  has  acquired,  and  to  say  to  him  for  the  two 
persons  whom  you  know  what  the  Church  says  to-day  with 
St.  Paul :  0  Lord,  do  thou  complete  that  work  which  thou  thy- 
self hast  commenced.  St.  Paul  often  regarded  himself  in  these 
two  states,  and  it  is  what  makes  him  say  elsewhere :  /  keep 
under  my  body,  and  bring  it  into  subjection  ;  lest  when  I  have 
preached  to  others,  /  myself  be  a  castaway.  I  end  therefore 
with  these  words  of  Job  :  /  have  always  feared  the  Lord  like 
the  waves  of  a  raffing  sea  and  swollen  to  engulf  me.  And  else- 
where :  Happy  is  the  man  that  fear -eth  always! 

IV. 

It  is  very  certain  that  separation  never  takes  place  without 
pain.  We  do  not  feel  our  bond  when  we  voluntarily  follow 
the  object  that  leads  us,  as  St.  Augustine  says ;  but  when  we 
iegin  to  resist  and  draw  back,  we  suffer ;  the  bond  stretches 
and  suffers  violence  ;  and  this  bond  is  our  body,  which  is 
broken  but  by  death.  Our  Lord  has  said  that  since  the  com- 
ing of  John  the  Baptist,  that  is,  since  his  coming  in  each  of 
the  faithful,  the  kingdom  of  heaven  suffers  violence  and  the  vio- 
lent take  it  by  storm.  Before  we  are  touched  by  the  spirit  we 
feel  nothing  but  the  burden  of  concupiscence  that  presses  \\a 


PASCAL. LETTERS.  447 

to  the  earth.  When  God  draws  us  on  high,  these  two  oppo- 
sing efforts  cause  that  violence  which  he  alone  can  enable  us 
to  overcome.  Bat  we  can  do  all  things,  says  St.  Leon,  with 
him,  without  whom  we  can  do  nothing.  We  must  then  resolve 
to  endure  this  warfare  all  our  lives ;  for  here  there  is  no 
peace.  Christ  came  not  to  bring  peace,  but  a  sword.  Never- 
theless, it  must  be  acknowledged  that,  as  Scripture  says,  the 
wisdom  of  this  world  is  foolishness  with  God  •  so  it  may  be 
said  that  this  warfare  which  appears  hard  to  men  is  peace  with 
God,  for  it  is  the  peace  which  Jesus  Christ  himself  has  brought 
us.  Yet  it  will  not  be  perfected  until  the  body  shall  be  de- 
stroyed ;  and  this  it  is  which  makes  us  wish  for  death,  while 
we  nevertheless  cheerfully  endure  life  for  the  love  of  him  who 
has  suffered  both  life  and  death  for  us,  and  who  is  able  to  give 
us  more  than  we  can  ask  or  think,  as  says  St.  Paul  in  the 
Epistle  of  to-day. 

V. 

God  be  praised,  I  have  no  more  fears  for  you,  but  am  full  of 
hops  i  These  are  consoling  words  indeed  of  Jesus  Christ :  To 
him  that  hath  shall  be  given.  By  this  promise,  those  who  have 
received  much  have  the  right  to  hope  for  more,  and  those  who 
have  received  extraordinarily  should  hope  extraordinarily.  I 
try  as  much  as  I  can  to  let  nothing  distress  me,  and  to  take 
every  thing  that  happens  as  for  the  best.  I  believe  that  this 
is  a  duty,  and  that  we  sin  in  not  doing  so.  For,  in  short, 
the  reason  why  sins  are  sins  is  only  because  they  are  con- 
trary to  the  will  of  God :  and  the  essence  of  sin  thus  consist- 
ing in  having  a  will  opposed  to  that  which  we  know  to  be  of 
God,  it  is  plain,  it  appears  to  me,  that  when  he  discovers  his 
will  to  us  by  events,  it  would  be  a  sin  not  to  conform  ourselves 
to  it  I  have  learned  that  in  every  thing  that  happens  there 
is  something  worthy  of  admiration,  since  the  will  of  God  is 
manifest  in  it.  I  praise  him  with  all  my  heart  for  the  contin- 
lation  of  his  favors,  for  I  see  plainly  that  they  do  not  diminish. 

The  affair  of  *  *  *  does  not  go  on  very  well :  it  is  a  thing 
that  makes  those  tremble  who  are  truly  the  children  of  God  to 
|ce  the  persecution  which  '.s  in  preparation,  not  only  against 


448  .  PASCAL. LETTEE8. 

individuals  (this  tfould  be  little)  but  against  the  Tr.ith.  To 
speak  truly,  God  is  indeed  abandoned.  It  appears  to  me  that 
this  is  a  time  in  which  the  service  that  we  render  him  is 
very  pleasing  to  him.  He  desires  that  we  should  judge  of 
grace  by  nature,  and  thus  we  may  be  allowed  to  suppose  that 
as  a  prince  driven  from  his  country  by  his  subjects  feels  ex- 
treme tenderness  for  those  who  remain  faithful  to  him  amidst 
the  public  revolt,  in  the  same  manner,  God  looks  with  espe- 
cial favor  upon  those  who  are  at  this  time  defending  the  purity 
of  religion  and  morals,  so  warmly  assailed.  But  there  is  this 
difference  between  the  kings  of  the  earth  and  the  King  of 
kings,  that  the  princes  do  not  render  their  subjects  faithful, 
but  find  them  so ;  whilst  God  never  finds  men  other  than  un- 
faithful, and  renders  them  faithful  when  they  are  so.  So  that 
while  the  kings  of  the  earth  are  under  signal  obligations  to 
those  who  adhere  to  their  allegiance,  it  happens,  on  the  con- 
trary, that  those  who  subsist  in  the  service  of  God  are  them- 
selves infinitely  indebted  to  him.  Let  us  continue  then  to 
praise  him  for  this  grace,  if  he  has  bestowed  it  upon  us,  for 
which  we  shall  praise  him  throughout  eternity,  and  let  us  pray 
that  he  may  give  us  still  more  of  it,  and  that  he  may  look  with 
pity  upon  us  and  upon  the  whole  Church,  outside  of  which 
there  is  nothing  but  malediction.  . 

I  am  interested  in  the  victim  of  persecution  of  whom  you 
speak.  I  see  plainly  that  God  has  reserved  to  himself  some 
hidden  servants,  as  he  said  to  Elijah.  I  pray  him  that  we 
may  be  of  the  number,  and  that  in  spirit,  in  sincerity,  and  in 
truth. 

VI. 

Whatever  may  come  of  the  affair  of  *  *  *,  enough,  thank 
God,  has  already  been  done  to  draw  an  admirable  advantage 
from  it  against  these  accursed  precepts.  There  is  need  that 
those  who  have  taken  any  part  in  this  should  render  great 
thanks  to  God,  and  that  their  relatives  and  friends  should  pray 
to  God  for  them  that  they  may  not  fall  from  the  great  happi- 
ness and  honor  which  he  has  bestowed  on  them.  All  the 
aonors  of  the  world  are  but  the  image  of  this ;  this  alone  if 


PASCAL.   -LETTERS.  449 

Bolid  and  real,  and  nevertheless  it  is  useless  without  the  right 
frame  of  heart.  It  is  not  bodily  austerities  nor  mental  exer- 
cises, but  good  impulses  of  the  heart,  which  are  of  merit  and 
which  sustain  the  sufferings  of  the  body  and  the  mind.  Foi 
in  short  two  things  are  necessary  for  sanctification — suffer- 
ings and  joys.  St.  Paul  says  that  we  must  through  much  trib- 
ulation enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God.  This  should,  console 
those  who  experience  tribulation,  since,  being  warned  that  the 
path  to  heaven  which  they  seek  is  filled  with  it,  they  should 
rejoice  at  meeting  tokens  that  they  are  in  the  right  way.  But 
these  very  sufferings  are  not  without  joys,  and  are  never  sur- 
mounted but  by  pleasure.  For  as  those  who  forsake  God  to 
return  to  the  world  do  it  only  because  they  find  more  enjoy- 
ment in  the  pleasures  of  the  world  than  in  those  of  a  union 
with  God,  and  because  this  conquering  charm  leads  them  away 
and,  making  them  repent  of  their  first  choice,  renders  them 
penitents  of  the  devil,  according  to  the  saying  of  Tertullian  ;  so 
none  would  ever  quit  the  pleasures  of  the  world  to  embrace 
the  cross  of  Jesus  Christ,  did  he  not  find  more  enjoyment  in 
contempt,  in  poverty,  in  destitution,  and  in  the  scorn  of  men, 
than  in  the  delights  of  sin.  And  thus,  says  Tertullian,  it  must 
not  be  supposed  that  the  Christian's  life  is  a  life  of  sadnens. 
We  forsake  pleasures  only  for  others  which  are  greater.  Pray 
without  ceasing,  says  St.  Paul,  in  every  thing  give  thanks,  re- 
joice evermore.  It  is  the  joy  of  having  found  God  that  is  the 
principle  of  the  sorrow  for  having  offended  him,  and  of  the 
whole  change  of  life.  He  that  finds  a  treasure  in  a  field,  ac- 
cording to  Jesus  Christ,  has  such  joy  that  he  goes  directly  and 
Bells  all  that  he  has  to  purchase  the  field.  The  people  of  the 
world  know  nothing  of  this  joy,  which  the  world  can  neither 
yive  nor  take  away,  as  is  said  by  Jesus  Christ.  The  blessed 
have  this  joy  without  sorrow ;  the  people  of  the  world  have 
.heir  sorrows  without  this  joy,  and  Christians  have  this  joy 
mingled  with  the  sorrow  of  having  pursued  other  pleasures 
and  the  fear  of  losing  it  by  the  allurements  of  these  same 
pleasures  which  tempt  us  without  ceasing.  And  thus  we 
should  labor  unceasingly  to  cherish  this  joy  which  moderate* 


150  PASCAL. —  LETTERS. 

our  fear,  and  to  preserve  this  fear  which  preserves  our  joy,  so 
that  on  feeling  ourselves  too  much  carried  away  by  the  one 
we  may  incline  towards  the  other,  and  thus  remain  poised  be- 
tween the  two.  In  the  day  of  prosperity  be  joyful;  but  in  the 
day  of  adversity  consider,  says  the  Scripture,  and  so  it  shall  be 
till  the  promise  of  Jesus  Christ  shall  be  accomplished  in  ua 
that  our  joy  shall  be  full.  Let  us  not  then  be  cast  down  by 
sadness,  nor  believe  that  piety  consists  only  in  bitterness  with- 
out consolation.  The  true  piety,  which  is  found  perfect  only 
in  heaven,  is  so  full  of  satisfactions  that  it  overflows  with  them 
in  its  beginning,  its  progress,  and  its  consummation.  Its  light 
is  so  shining  that  it  is  reflected  on  all  about  it ;  and  if  there  is 
sadness  mingled  with  it,  especially  at  the  outset,  this  comes 
from  ourselves  and  not  from  virtue ;  for  it  is  not  the  effect  of 
the  piety  that  is  springing  up  in  us,  but  of  the  impiety  that 
still  is  there.  Remove  the  impiety  and  the  joy  will  be  unal- 
loyed. Let  us  not  ascribe  this  then  to  devotion,  but  to  our- 
selves, and  seek  relief  from  it  only  through  our  correction. 

VII. 

I  am  very  glad  of  the  hope  which  you  give  me  of  the  suc- 
cess of  the  affair  which  you  fear  may  make  you  vain.  There  is 
something  to  fear  in  any  case ;  for,  were  it  successful,  I  should 
fear  from  it  that  evil  sorrow  of  which  St.  Paul  says  that  it 
leads  to  death,  instead  of  that  different  one  that  leads  to  life. 

It  is  certain  that  the  matter  was  a  thorny  one,  and  that,  if 
the  person  should  be  extricated  from  it,  the  result  would  give 
reason  for  some  vanity,  were  it  not  that  we  had  entreated  it  of 
God,  and  should  therefore  believe  the  good  that  comes  of  it  his 
work.  But  if  it  should  not  succeed  well,  we  ought  not  there- 
'bre  to  fall  into  despondency,  for  the  same  reason  that  having 
prayed  to  God  in  the  affair,  it  is  evident  that  he  has  taken  it 
into  his  own  hand ;  thus  he  must  be  regarded  as  the  author  of 
all  good  and  of  all  evil,  with  the  exception  of  sin.  Thereupon 
I  would  repeat  to  the  person  the  passage  of  Scripture  to  which 
I  have  before  referred  :  In  the  day  of  prosperity  rejoice,  but  in 
the  day  of  adversity  consider.  Nevertheless,  I  must  say  to  yor 


PASCAL. LETTERS.  451 

in  respect  to  the  other  person  whom  you  know,  who  sends  word 
that  she  has  many  things  on  her  mind  that  trouble  her,  that  I 
am  very  sorry  to  see  her  in  this  state.    I  am  deeply  grieved  at 
her  troubles,  and  should  be  glad  to  be  able  to  relieve  them 
I  entreat  her  not  to  anticipate  the  future,  and  to  remembe 
that,  as  our  Lord  has  said,  Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  em 
thereof. 

The  past  ought  not  to  trouble  us,  since  we  have  only  to  feel 
regret  for  our  faults ;  but  the  future  ought  to  concern  us  still 
less,  since  it  is  wholly  beyond  our  control,  and  since  perhaps 
we  may  not  reach  it  at  all.  The  present  is  the  only  time  that 
is  truly  our  own,  and  this  we  ought  to  employ  according  to 
the  will 'of  God.  It  is  in  this  that  our  thoughts  ought  chiefly 
to  be  centred.  Yet  the  world  is  so  restless  that  men  scarcely 
ever  think  of  the  present  life  and  of  the  moment  in  which  they 
are  living,  but  of  that  in  which  they  will  live.  In  this  manner 
we  are  always  living  in  the  future,  and  never  in.  the  present. 
Our  Lord  has  willed  that  our  foresight  should  not  extend  be- 
yond the  present  day.  These  are  the  bounds  within  which 
we  must  keep  both  for  our  safety  and  for  our  own  repose.  For 
in  truth,  the  Christian  precepts  are  those  fullest  of  consolation, 
exceeding,  I  affirm,  the  maxims  of  the  world. 

I  also  foresee  many  troubles,  both  for  that  person,  for  others, 
and  for  myself.  But  I  pray  to  God,  when  I  find  myself  ab- 
sorbed in  these  forebodings,  to  restrain  me  within  my  prescribed 
course.  I  call  myself  to  an  account,  and  I  find  that  I  am  neg- 
lecting to  do  many  things  that  I  ought  at  present,  in  order  to 
escape  from  useless  thoughts  of  the  future  on  which,  far  from 
being  obliged  to  dwell,  it  is  on  the  contrary  my  duty  not  to 
dwell  at  all.  It  is  only  for  want  of  not  understanding  how  to 
know  and  study  the  present  that  we  undertake  to  study  the 
future.  What  I  say  here,  I  say  for  myself,  and  not  for  that 
person  who  has  assuredly  more  virtue  and  reflection  than  I ; 
out  I  show  him  my  defect  to  hinder  him  from  falling  into  it : 
We  sometimes  correct  ourselves  better  by  the  sight  of  evil  than 
by  the  example  of  good ;  and  it  is  well  to  accustom  ourseh  es  to 
profit  by  evil,  since  this  is  so  common  while  goodness  is  sc  rare. 


452  PASCAL.—  LETTERS. 

VIIL 

I  pity  the  person  whom  you  know  in  the  disquietude  in 
which  I  know  she  is,  and  in  which  I  am  not  surprised  to  see 
her.  It  is  a  little  day  of  judgment  which  cannot  come  with- 
out a  universal  emotion  of  the  person,  as  the  general  judgment 
will  cause  a  general  emotion  in  the  world,  those  excepted  who 
shall  have  already  judged  themselves,  as  she  pretends  to  have 
done.  This  temporal  suffering  would  guarantee  her  from  the 
eternal,  through  the  infinite  merits  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  has 
endured  it  and  rendered  it  his  own  ;  this  it  is  that  should  con- 
sole her.  Our  yoke  is  also  his  own ;  without  this  it  would  be 
insupportable. 

Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  says  he.  It  is  not  our  yoke  ;  it  is 
his,  and  he  also  bears  it.  Know,  says  he,  that  my  yoke  is  easy 
and  light.  It  is  light  only  to  him  and  to  his  divine  power.  I 
would  say  to  her  that  she  should  remember  that  these  dis- 
quietudes come  not  from  the  good  that  is  springing  up  in  her, 
but  from  the  evil  which  is  still  remaining  and  must  be  con- 
tinually diminished ;  that  she  must  do  like  a  child  that  is 
being  torn  by  robbers  from  the  arms  of  its  mother  who  will 
not  let  it  go ;  for  it  should  not  charge  the  mother  that  fondly 
holds  it  back  with  the  violence  that  it  suffers,  but  its  unjust 
ravishers.  The  whole  office  of  Advent  is  well  fitted  to  give 
courage  to  the  weak ;  these  words  of  Scripture  :  Take  courage, 
ye  fearful  and  unbelieving,  behold,  your  Redeemer  cometh,  are 
often  repeated  there,  and  in  the  vesper  service  of  to-day  it  is 
said  :  "  Take  courage  and  fear  not ;  for  your  God  shall  come 
to  save  and  deliver  you." 

IX. 

Your  letter  has  given  me  the  greatest  joy.  I  confess  that  I 
was  beginning  to  fear,  or  at  least  to  be  astonished.  I  know 
not  what  was  the  beginning  of  the  trouble  of  which  you  speak  ; 
out  I  know  that  trouble  must  come.  I  was  reading  the  thir- 
eenth  chapter  of  St.  Mark.  I  was  thinking  of  writing  you 
=»nd  I  will  tell  you  therefore  what  I  found  in  it.  Jesus  Chrifit 


PASCAL. —  LETTERS.  453 

is  there  addressing  a  solemn  discourse  to  his  disciples  on  hig 
second  coming ;  and  as  whatever  happens  to  the  Church  hap- 
pens also  to  each  individual  Christian,  it  is  certain  that  this 
whole  chapter  predicts  the  state  of  each  person  in  whom  on 
conversion  the  old  man  is  destroyed,  as  well  as  that  of  the 
whole  universe  which  shall  be  destroyed  to  give  place  to  a  new 
heaven  and  a  new  earth,  as  the  Scripture  says.  And  thus  I 
bhould  think  that  the  overthrow  of  the  reprobate  temple,  which 
prefigures  the  overthrow  of  the  reprobate  man  within  us,  and 
of  which  it  is  said  that  there  shall  not  be  one  stone  left  upon 
another,  indicates  that  no  passion  of  the  old  man  shall  remain  ;' 
and  these  fierce  contentions,  both  civil  and  domestic,  represent 
so  well  the  internal  conflicts  experienced  by  those  who  give 
themselves  up  to  God,  that  nothing  can  be  better  depicted. 

But  very  striking  are  these  words :  When  ye  shall  see  the 
abomination  of  desolation  in  the  holy  place,  let  not  him  that  is 
on  the  house-top  go  into  the  house.  It  seems  to  me  that  this 
perfectly  predicts  the  times  in  which  we  live,  in  which  moral 
corruption  is  in  the  houses  of  sanctity  and  in  the  books  of  the- 
ologians and  ecclesiastics,  in  which  we  should  least  expect  it. 
We  must  shun  such  disorder ;  and  woe  to  those  with  child 
and  to  those  that  give  suck  in  those  days,  that  is  to  those  that 
are  held  back  by  worldly  ties !  The  words  of  a  sainted  woman 
are  applicable  here  :  "  We  are  not  to  consider  whether  we  are 
called  to  quit  the  world,  but  solely  whether  we  are  called  to 
remain  in  it,  as  we  should  not  deliberate  whether  we  were 
sailed  to  fly  a  house  infected  with  plague  or  on  fire." 

This  chapter  of  the  Evangelist,  which  I  should  like  to  read 
with  you  entire,  concludes  with  an  exhortation  to  watch  and 
pray  in  order  to  shun  all  these  misfortunes,  and  in  truth,  it  is 
proper  indeed  that  when  the  danger  is  continual  the  prayer 
should  be  continual  also. 

For  this  purpose  I  send  the  prayers  which  were  asked  of 
me ;  it  is  now  three  in  the  afternoon.  Since  your  departure,  a 

1  The  two  MSS.  of  the  Biblicth^que  Imp.  say  :  "no  passion  in  ut." — 


454  PASCAL. LETTERS. 

miracle  has  been  performed  upon  a  nun  of  Pontoise,  who,  with- 
out leaving  her  convent,  has  been  cured  of  an  extraordinary 
headache  by  an  act  of  devotion  to  the  holy  Thorn.  I  will  tell 
you  more  about  it  another  time.  But  I  mu&t  quote  to  you,  in 
respect  to  this,  an  excellent  saying  of  St.  Augustine,  very  con- 
soling to  certain  persons,  that  those  alone  really  see  miracles 
whom  the  miracles  benefit ;  for  they  are  not  seen  at  all  if  they 
do  not  benefit. 

I  am  under  obligations  that  I  cannot  sufficiently  express 
for  the  present  which  you  have  made  me ;  I  did  not  know 
what  it  could  be,  for  I  unfolded  it  before  reading  your  letter, 
and  I  afterwards  repented  for  not  having  rendered  to  it  at  first 
the  respect  that  was  due  to  it.  It  is  a  truth  that  the  Holy 
Spirit  reposes  invisibly  in  the  relics  of  those  who  have  died  in 
the  grace  of  God,  until  they  shall  appear  visibly  in  the  resur- 
rection, and  this  it  is  that  renders  the  relics  of  the  saints  so 
worthy  of  veneration.  For  God  never  abandons  his  own,  even 
in  the  sepulchre  in  which  their  bodies,  though  dead  to  the 
eyes  of  men,  are  more  than  ever  living  in  the  sight  of  God, 
since  sin  is  no  more  in  them ;  whilst  it  constantly  resides  in 
them  during  life,  at  least  in  its  root,  for  the  fruits  of  sin  are  not 
always  in  them ;  and  this  fatal  root,  which  is  inseparable  from 
them  in  life,  causes  it  to  be  forbidden  us  during  life  to  honor 
them,  since  they  are  rather  worthy  of  detestation.  It  is  for 
this  that  death  becomes  necessary  to  mortify  entirely  this  fatal 
root,  and  this  it  is  that  renders  it  desirable.  But  it  is  of  no 
use '  to  tell  you  what  you  know  so  well ;  it  would  be  better  to 
tell  it  to  the  other  persons  of  whom  you  speak,  but  they  would 
not  listen  to  it. 

>  The  MSS.  of  the  Biblioth4que  Imp.  say :  "  Bi  t  it  is  not  nexssary ....»' 
The  MS.  of  Troyes  agrees  with  ours. — Faugcrt. 


PASCAL. LETTERS.  455 


LETTER   FROM   PASCAL   TO   QUEEN   CHRISTINA,  ON   SENDING 
HER  THE  ARITHMETICAL  MACHINE,  1650. 

MADAME, 

If  I  had  as  much  health  as  zeal,  I  should  go  myself  t< 
present  to  Your  Majesty  a  work  of  several  years  which  I  dare 
offer  you  from  so  far ;  and  I  should  not  suffer  any  other  hands 
than  mine  to  have  the  honor  of  bearing  it  to  the  feet  of  the 
greatest  princess  in  the  world.  This  work,  Madame,  is  a  ma- 
chine for  making  arithmetical  calculations  without  pen  or 
counters.  Your  Majesty  is  not  ignorant  of  the  cost  of  time 
and  pains  of  new  productions,  above  all  when  the  inventors 
wish  to  bring  them  themselves  to  their  highest  perfection; 
this  is  why  it  would  be  useless  to  say  how  much  I  have  labor- 
ed upon  this  one,  and  I  cannot  better  express  myself  than  by 
saying  that  I  have  devoted  myself  to  it  with  as  much  ardor  as 
though  I  had  foreseen  that  it  would  one  day  appear  before  so 
august  a  person.  But,  Madame,  if  this  honor  has  not  been 
the  veritable  motive  of  my  work,  it  will  be  at  least  its 
recompense ;  and  I  shall  esteem  myself  too  happy  if,  after 
so  many  vigils,  it  can  give  Your  Majesty  a  few  moments' 
satisfaction.  I  shall  not  importune  Your  Majesty  with  the 
details  of  the  parts  which  compose  this  machine;  if  you 
have  any  curiosity  in  respect  to  it,  you  can  satisfy  your- 
self in  a  discourse  which  1  have  addressed  to  M.  de  Bourde- 
lot;1  in  which  I  have  sketched  in  a  few  words  the  whole 
history  of  this  work,  the  object  of  its  invention,  the  occasion 
that  led  to  its  investigation,  the  utility  of  its  applications,  the 
difficulty  of  its  execution,  the  degree  of  its  progress,  the  suc- 
cess of  its  accomplishment,  and  the  rules  for  its  use.  I  shall 


»  Physician  to  Queen  Christina.  He  had  first  been  physician  to  the 
great  Conde',  Vo  whom  he  iiad  introduced  Pascal  in  1644,  that  the  latter 
might  show  to  the  prince  iae  arithmetical  machine,  as  we  learn  from  an 
unpublished  note  from  Bourdelot  to  Pascal,  MS.  397,  Suppl.fr.,  p.  22,  and 
MS.  of  Mazarin,  p.  33. —  Cousin. 


£56  PASCAL. LETTEBS. 

therefoie  only  speak  here  of  the  motive  that  led  ine  to  offer  it 
to  Your  Majesty,  which  I  consider  as  the  consummation  and 
happiest  fortune  of  its  destiny.  I  know,  Madame,  that  I 
may  be  suspected  of  having  sought  honor  in  presenting  it  to 
Your  Majesty,  since  it  can  pass  only  for  something  extraordi- 
nary when  it  is  seen  that  it  is  addressed  to  you  :  and  that 
whilst  it  should  only  be  offered  to  you  through  the  considera- 
tion of  its  excellence,  it  will  be  judged  that  it  is  excellent  for 
the  sole  reason  that  it  is  offered  to  you.  It  is  not  this  hope, 
however,  that  has  inspired  me  with  such  a  design.  It  is  too 
great,  Madame,  to  have  any  other  object  than  Your  Majesty 
yourself.  What  has  really  determined  me  to  this  is  the  union 
that  I  find  in  your  sacred  person  of  two  things  that  equally 
overwhelm  me  with  admiration  and  respect — which  are,  sov- 
ereign authority  and  solid  science;  for  I  have  an  especial 
veneration  for  those  who  are  elevated  to  the  supreme  degree 
either  of  power  or  of  knowledge.  The  latter  may,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  as  well  as  the  former,  pass  for  sovereigns.  The 
same  gradations  are  found  in  genius  as  in  condition  ;  and  the 
power  of  kings  over  their  subjects  is,  it  seems  to  me,  only  an 
image  of  the  power  of  minds  over  inferior  minds,  over  whom 
they  exercise  the  right  of  persuasion,  which  is  with  them 
what  the  right  of  command  is  in  political  government.  This 
second  empire  even  appears  to  me  of  an  order  so  much  the 
more  elevated,  as  minds  are  of  an  order  more  elevated  than 
bodies;  and  so  much  the  more  just,  as  it  can  be  shared  and 
preserved  only  by  merit,  whilst  the  other  can  be  shared  and 
preserved  by  birth  and  fortune.  It  must  be  acknowledged 
then  that  each  of  these  empires  is  great  in  itself;  but,  Ma- 
dame, let  Your  Majesty,  who  is  not  wounded  by  it,  permit  me 
to  say,  the  one  without  the  other  appears  to  me  defective. 
However  powerful  a  monarch  may  be,  something  is  wanting 
to  his  glory  if  he  has  not  pre-eminence  of  mind ;  and  how- 
ever enlightened  a  subject  may  be,  his  condition  is  always 
lowered  by  dependence.  Men  who  naturally  desire  what  is 
most  perfect,  have  hitherto  continually  aspired  to  meet  thi» 


PASCAL. —  LETTERS.  457 

sovereign  par  excellence.  All  kings  and  scholars  have  hitherto 
been  but  faint  outlines  of  it,  only  half  performing  their 
endeavor ;  this  masterpiece  has  been  icserved  for  our  own 
times.  And  that  this  great  marvel  might  appear  accom- 
panied with  all  possible  subjects  of  wonder,  the  position  that 
men  could  not  attain  is  filled  by  a  youthful  queen,  in  whom 
are  found  combined  the  advantage  of  experience  with  the  ten- 
derness of  youth,  the  leisure  of  study  with  the  occupation  of 
royal  birth,  and  the  eminence  of  science  with  the  feebleness 
of  sex.  It  is  Your  Majesty,  Madame,  that  furnishes  to  the 
world  this  unique  example  that  was  wanting  to  it.  You  it  is 
in  whom  power  is  dispensed  by  the  light  of  science,  and  science 
exalted  by  the  lustre  of  authority.  It  is  from  this  marvellous 
union  that,  as  Your  Majesty  sees  nothing  beneath  your  power, 
you  also  see  nothing  above  your  mind,  and  that  you  will  be  the 
admiration  of  every  age.  Reign  then,  incomparable  princess, 
in  a  manner  wholly  new  ;  let  your  genius  subdue  every  thing 
that  is  not  submissive  to  your  arms ;  reign  by  right  of  birth 
during  a  long  course  of  years  over  so  many  triumphant  prov- 
inces ;  but  reign  continually  by  the  force  of  your  merit  over 
the  whole  extent  of  the  earth.  As  for  me,  not  having  been 
born  under  the  former  of  your  empires,  I  wish  all  the  world 
to  know  that  I  glory  in  living  under  the  latter ;  and  it  is  to 
bear  witness  to  this  that  I  dare  to  raise  my  eyes  to  my  queen, 
in  giving  her  this  first  proof  of  my  dependence. 

This,  Madame,  is  what  leads  me  to  make  to  Your  Majesty 
this  present,  although  unworthy  of  you.  My  weakness  has 
not  checked  my  ambition.  I  have  figured  to  myself  that 
although  the  name  alone  of  Your  Majesty  seems  to  put  away 
from  you  every  thing  that  is  disproportioned  to  your  great- 
ness, you  will  not  however  reject  every  thing  that  is  inferioi 
to  yourself;  as  your  greatness  would  thus  be  without  homage 
and  your  glory  without  praise.  You  will  be  contented  to  re- 
ceive a  great  mental  effort,  without  exacting  that  it  should  be 
the  effort  of  a  mind  as  great  as  your  own.  It  is  by  this  con- 
descension that  you  will  deign  to  enter  into  communication 

20 


4:58  PASCAL. LETTERS. 

with  the  rest  of  mankind ;  and  all  these  joint  considerations 
make  me  protest,  with  all  the  submission  of  which  one  of  the 
greatest  admirers  of  your  heroic  qualities  is  capable,  that  I 
desire  nothing  with  so  much  ardor  as  to  be  able  to  be  adopt- 
ed, Madame,  by  Your  Majesty,  as  your  most  humble,  moat 
obedient,  and  most  faithful  servant. 

BLAISI  PASCAL. 


OPUSCULES. 


EPITAPH  OF  M.  PASCAL,  PERE. 

HERE  lies,  etc. 

Illustrious  for  his  great  knowledge,  which  was  recognized 
by  the  scholars  of  all  Europe ;  more  illustrious  still  for  the 
great  probity  which  he  exercised  in  the  offices  and  employ- 
ments with  which  he  was  honored ;  but  much  more  illustrious 
for  his  exemplary  piety.  He  tasted  good  and  bad  fortune, 
that  he  might  be  known  in  every  thing  for  what  he  was.  He 
was  seen  temperate  in  prosperity  and  patient  in  adversity. 
He  sought  the  aid  of  God  in  misfortune,  and  rendered  him 
thanks  in  happiness.  His  heart  was  devoted  to  his  God,  his 
king,  his  family,  and  his  friends.  He  had  respect  for  the  great 
and  love  for  the  small ;  it  pleased  God  to  crown  all  the  graces 
of  nature  that  he  had  bestowed  on  him  with  a  divine  grace 
which  made  his  great  love  for  God  the  foundation,  the  stay, 
and  the  consummation  of  all  his  other  virtues. 

Thou,  who  seest  in  this  epitome  the  only  thing  that  remains 
to  us  of  so  beautiful  a  life,  admire  the  fragility  of  all  present 
things,  weep  the  loss  that  we  have  suffered ;  render  thanks  to 
God  for  having  left  for  a  time  to  earth  the  enjoyment  of  such 
a  treasure ;  and  pray  his  goodness  to  crown  with  his  eternal 
glory  him  whom  he  crowned  here  below  with  more  graces  and 
rirtues  than  the  limits  of  an  epitaph  permit  us  to  relate. 

His  grief-stricken  children  have  placed  this  epitaph  on  this 
spot,  which  they  have  composed  from  the  fulness  of  their 


460  PASCAL. OPU8CULE8. 

hearts,  in  order  to  render  homage  to  the  truth  and  not  to  ap- 
pear ingrates  in  the  sight  of  God. 

MSS.  of  the  Bibliotheque  Imp.,  Oratoire,  No.  160. — Fau- 
gere,  Z/etlres,  etc.,  Appendice,  No.  5. 


PRAYER 

TO  ASK  OF  GOD  THB  PROPER  USE  OF  SICKNESS. 

I.  LORD,  whose  spirit  is  so  good  and  so  gentle  in  all  things, 
and  who  art  so  merciful  that  not  only  the  prosperity  but 
the  very  disgrace  that  happens  to  thy  elect  is  the  effect  of 
thy  mercy,  grant  me  the  favor  not  to  act  towards  me  as  to- 
wards a  heathen  in  the  condition  to  which  thy  justice  has  re- 
duced me :  that  like  a  true  Christian  I  may  recognize  thee  for 
my  Father  and  my  God,  in  whatever  condition  I  may  find  my- 
self, since  the  change  of  my  condition  brings  none  to  thine; 
as  thou  art  always  the  same,  however  subject  I  may  be  to 
change,  and  as  thou  art  none  the  less  God  when  thou  afflictest 
and  punishest,  than  when  thou  comfortest  and  showest  in- 
dulgence. 

II.  Thou  gavest  me  health  to  serve  thee,  and  I  made  a  pro- 
fane use  of  it.     Thou  sendest  me  sickness  now  to  correct  me; 
suffer  not  that  I  use  it  to  irritate  thee  by  my  impatience.     I 
made  a  bad  use  of  my  health,  and  thou  hast  justly  punished 
me  for  it.     Suffer  not  that  I  make  a  bad  use  of  my  punish- 
ment.    And  since  the  corruption  of  my  nature  is  such  that  it 
renders  thy  favors  pernicious  to  me,  grant,  O  my  God !  that 
thy  all-powerful  grace  may  render  thy  chastisements  salutary. 
If  my  heart  was  full  of  affection  for  the  world  while  it  retained 
its  vigor,  destroy  this  vigor  for  my  salvation ;  and  render  me  in- 
capable of  enjoying  the  world,  either  through  weakness  of  body 
»r  through  zeal  of  charity,  that  I  may  enjoy  but  thee  alone. 

III.  O  God,  before  whom  I  must  render  an  exact  account 
I  all  my  actions  at  the  end  of  my  life  and  at  the  end  of  the 

world !     O  God,  who  lettest  the  world  and  all  the  things  o, 


PASCAL.  —  OPUSCULES.  461 

the  world  subsist  but  to  train  thy  elect  or  to  punish  sinners 

0  God,  who  allowest  sinners  hardened  in  the  pleasurable  and 
criminal  use  of  the  world  !     0  God,  who  makest  our  bodies  to 
die,  and  who  at  the  hour  of  death  separatest  our  soul  from  all 
that  it  loved  in  the  world  !     0  God,  who  wilt  snatch  me,  at 
this  last  moment  of  my  life,  from  all  the  things  to  which  I  am 
attached  and  on  which  I  have  set  my  heart !     0  God,  who 
wilt  consume  at  the  last  day  the  heavens  and  the  earth  with 
all  the  creatures  they  contain,  to  show  to  all  mankind  that 
nothing  subsists  save  thee,  and  that  thus  nothing  is  worthy  of 
love  save  thee,  since  nothing  is  durable  save  thee !     0  God, 
who  wilt  destroy  all  these  vain  idols  and  all  these  fatal  objects 
of  our  passions !     I  praise  thee,  my  God,  and  I  will  bless  thee 
all  the  days  of  my  life,  that  it  has  pleased  thee  to  anticipate  in 
rny  favor  this  terrible  day,  by  destroying  all  things  in  respect 
to  me  through  the  weakness  to  which  thou  hast  reduced  me. 

1  praise  thee,  my  God,  and  I  will  bless  thee  all  the  days  of  my 
life,  that  it  has  pleased  thee  to  reduce  me  to  the  incapacity  of 
enjoying  the  sweets  of  health  and  the  pleasures  of  the  world, 
and  that  thou  hast  destroyed  in  some  sort,  for  my  advantage, 
the  deceitful  idols  that  thou  wilt  destroy  effectively,  for  the 
confusion  of  the  wicked,  in  the  day  of  thy  wrath.     Grant, 
Lord,  that  I  may  judge  myself,  after  the  destruction  that  thou 
hast  made  with  respect  to  me,  that  thou  mayest  not  judge  me 
thyself,  after  the  entire  destruction  that  thou  wilt  make  of  my 
Me  and  of  the  world.     For,  Lord,  as  at  the  instant  of  my  death 
I  shall  find  myself  separated  from  the  world,  stripped  of  all 
things,  alone  in  thy  presence,  to  answer  to  thy  justice  for  all 
the  emotions  of  my  heart,  grant  that  I  may  consider  myself  in 
this  sickness  as  in  a  species  of  death,  separated  from  the  world, 
stripped  of  all  the  objects  of  my  attachment,  alone  in  thy  pres- 
ence, to  implore  of  thy  mercy  the  conversion  of  my  heart ; 
und  that  thus  I  may  have  extreme  consolation  in  knowing  that 
thou  sendest  me  now  a  partial  death  in  order  to  exercise  thy 
ttiercy,  before  thou  sendest  me  death  effectively  in  order  tc 
exercise  thy  judgment.     Grant  then,  0  my  God,  that  as  thou 
aast  anticipated  my  death,  I  may  anticipate  the  rigor  of  thy 


4G2  PASCAL. OP1  SCULES. 

sentence,  and  that  I  may  examine  myself  before  thy  judgment, 
so  that  I  may  find  mercy  in  thy  presence. 

IV.  Grant,  0  my  God !  that  I  may  adore  in  silence  the 
order  of  thy  adorable  providence  in  the  direction  of  my  life ; 
that  this  scourge  may  console  me ;  and  that,  having  lived  dur- 
ing peace  in  the  bitterness  of  my  sins,  I  may  taste  the  heavenly 
sweets  of  thy  grace  during  the  salutary  evils  with  which  thou 
afflictest  me.  But  I  perceive,  my  God,  that  my  heart  is  so 
obdurate  and  full  of  the  thoughts,  the  cares,  the  anxieties,  and 
the  attachments  of  the  world,'  that  sickness  no  more  than 
health,  nor  discourses,  nor  books,  nor  thy  sacred  Scriptures, 
nor  thy  Gospel,  nor  thy  most  holy  mysteries,  nor  alms,  nor 
fasts,  nor  mortifications,  nor  miracles,  nor  the  use  of  sacra- 
ments, nor  the  sacrifice  of  thy  body,  nor  all  my  efforts,  nor 
those  of  all  the  world  together,  can  do  any  thing  at  all  for  the 
commencement  of  my  conversion,  if  thou  dost  not  accompany 
all  these  things  with  an  extraordinary  assistance  of  thy  grace. 
It  is  for  this  that  I  address  myself  to  thee,  all-powerful  God,  to 
ask  of  thee  a  gift  which  all  created  things  together  cannot 
accord  to  me.  I  should  not  have  the  boldness  to  address  to 
thee  my  cries,  if  any  other  had  power  to  grant  them.  But, 
my  God,  as  the  conversion  of  my  heart,  which  I  ask  of  thee,  is 
a  work  which  surpasses  all  the  efforts  of  nature,  I  can  only 
address  myself  to  the  all-powerful  Author  and  Master  of  nature 
and  of  my  heart.  To  whom  shall  I  cry,  0  Lord,  to  whom 
shall  I  have  recourse,  if  not  to  thee  ?  Nothing  that  is  less 
than  God  can  fulfil  my  expectation.  It  is  God  himself  that  I 
ask  and  seek ;  and  it  is  to  thee  alone,  my  God,  that  I  address 
myself  to  obtain  thee.  Open  my  heart,  O  Lord ;  enter  into 
the  rebellious  place  which  has  been  occupied  by  vices.  They 
hold  it  subject.  Enter  into  it  as  into  the  strong  man's  house  ; 
but  first  bind  the  strong  and  powerful  enemy  that  has  posses- 
sion of  it,  and  then  take  the  treasures  which  are  there.  Lord, 
take  my  affections,  which  the  world  had  stolen ;  take  thi> 
treasure  thyself,  or  rather  retake  it,  since  it  belongs  to  thee 
as  a  tribute  that  I  owe  thee,  since  thy  image  is  imprinted 
in  it  Thou  formedst  it,  O  Lord,  at  the  moment  of  n~y  bap- 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  403 

tism,  which  waa  my  second  birth ;  but  it  is  wholly  effaced. 
The  image  of  the  world  is  so  deeply  engraven  there  that  thine 
is  no  longer  to  be  recognized.  Thou  alone  couldst  create  my 
soul,  thou  alone  canst  create  it  anew ;  thou  alone  couldst  form 
thy  image,  thou  alone  canst  reform  and  reimprint  thy  effaced 
portrait,  that  is,  my  Saviour,  Jesus  Christ,  who  is  thy  image, 
and  the  expression  of  thy  substance. 

V.  0  my  God !   how  happy  is  a  heart  that  can  love  so 
charming  an  object,  that  does  not  dishonor  it,  and  the  attach- 
ment of  which  is  so  salutary  to  it !     I  feel  that  I  cannot  love 
the  world  without  displeasing  thee,  and  destroying  and  dis- 
honoring myself;    yet  the  world  is  still  the   object   of  my 
delight.     O  my  God !  how  happy  is  the  soul  of  which  thou 
art  the  delight,  since  it  can  abandon  itself  to  loving  thee,  not 
only  without  scruple,  but  also  with  merit !      How  firm  and 
durable  is  its  happiness,  since  its  expectation  will  never  be 
frustrated,  because  thou  wilt  never  be  destroyed,  and  neither 
life  nor  death  will  ever  separate  it  from  the  object  of  its 
desires;  and  since  the  same  moment  that  will  plunge  the 
wicked  with  their  idols  into  a  common  ruin,  will  unite  the  just 
with  thee  in  a  common  glory ;  and  since,  as  the  former  will 
perish  with  the  perishable  objects  to  which  they  are  attached, 
the  latter  will  subsist  eternally  in  the  eternal  and  self-subsist- 
ent  object  to  which  they  are  closely  bound  !     Oh  !  how  happy 
ire  those  who  with  an  entire  liberty,  and  irresistible  inclination 
of  their  will,  love  perfectly  and  freely  that  which  they  are 
obliged  to  love  necessarily  ! 

VI.  Perfect,  O  my  God,  the  good  impulses  that  thou  givest 
me.     Be  their  end  as  thou   art  their  principle.     Crown  thy 
own  gifts,  for  I  recognize  that  they  are  from  thee.     Yes,  my 
God,  and  far  from  pretending  that  my  prayers  may  have  some 
merit  that  forces  thee  to  accord  them  of  necessity,  I  humbly 
Acknowledge  that,  having  given  to  created  things  my  heart, 
which  thou   hadst  formed   only  for  thyself,  and  not  for  tho 
world,  nor  for  myself,  I  can  expect  no  grace  except  from  thy 
snercy,  since  I  have  nothing  in  me  that  can  oblige  thee  to  it. 
and  since  all  the  natural  impulses  of  my  heart,  whether  tend- 


464:  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

ing  towards  created  things,  or  towards  myself,  can  only  irritate 
tbce.  I,  therefore,  render  thee  thanks,  my  God,  for  the  good 
impulses  which  thou  givest  me,  and  for  the  very  one  that  thou 
bast  given  me  to  render  thanks  for  them. 

VII.  Move  my  heart  to  repent  of  my  faults,  since,  without 
this  internal  sorrow,  the  external  ills  with  which  thou  affectest 
my  body  will  be  to  me  a  new  occasion  of  sin.     Make  me  truly 
to  know  that  the  ills  of  the  body  are  nothing  else  than  the 
punishment  and  the  symbol  combined  of  the  ills  of  the  soul. 
But,  Lord,  grant  also  that  they  may  be  their  remedy,  by 
making  me  consider,  in  the  pains  which  I  feel,  those  that  I  did 
not  feel  in  my  soul,  although  wholly  diseased,  and  covered  with 
sores.     For,  Lord,  the  greatest  of  its  diseases  is  this  insensi- 
bility and  extreme  weakness,  which  had  taken  away  from  it 
all  feeling  of  its  own  sufferings.     Make  me  to  feel  them  acute- 
ly, and  grant  that  the  portion  of  life  that  remains  to  me  may 
be  a  continual  penitence  to  wash  away  the  offences  that  I  have 
committed. 

VIII.  Lord,  although   my  past   life   may  have   been   ex- 
empt from  great  crimes,  of  which  thou  hast  removed  from 
me  the  occasions,  it  has  nevertheless  been  most  odious  to 
thee  by  its  continual  negligence,  by  the  bad  use  of  thy  most 
August  sacraments,  by  the  contempt  of  thy  word  and  of  thy 
inspirations,  by  the  indolence  and  total  uselessness  of  my  ac- 
tions and  my  thoughts,  by  the  complete  loss  of  the  time  which 
thou  hadst  given  me  only  to  adore  thee,  to  seek  in  all  my 
occupations  the  means  of  pleasing  thee,  and  to  repent  of  faults 
that  are  committed  every  day,  and  are  even  common  to  the 
most  just ;  so  that  their  life  should  be  a  continual  penitence, 
without  which  they  are  in  danger  of  falling  from  their  justice. 
Thus,  my  God,  I  have  always  been  opposed  to  thee. 

IX.  Yes,  Lord,  hitherto  I  have  always  been  deaf  to  thy 
'nspirations,  I  have  despised  thy  oracles;  I  have  judged  the 
contrary  of  that  which  thou  hast  judged  ;  I  have  contradicted 
the  holy  maxims  which  thou  hast  brought  to  the  world  from 
the  bosom  of  thy  eternal  Father,  and  conformably  to  which 
thou  wilt  judge  the  world.     Thou  sayest :  Blessed  are  those 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  465 

that  mourn,  and  woe  to  those  that  are  comforted !  And  I  have 
Raid  :  Woe  to  those  that  mourn,  and  blessed  are  those  that  are 
comforted !  I  have  said :  Blessed  are  those  that  enjoy  an 
affluent  fortune,  a  glorious  reputation,  and  robust  health !  And 
why  have  I  reputed  them  blessed,  if  not  because  all  these 
advantages  furnished  them  ample  facility  for  enjoying  created 
things,  that  is  for  offending  thee  !  Yes,  Lord,  I  confess  that  I 
have  esteemed  health  a  blessing, .  not  because  it  is  an  easy 
means  for  serving  thee  with  utility,  for  accomplishing  more 
cares  and  vigils  in  thy  service,  and  for  the  assistance  of  my 
neighbor ;  but  because  by  its  aid  I  could  abandon  myself  with 
less  restraint  to  the  abundance  of  the  delights  of  life,  and  better 
relish  fatal  pleasures.  Grant  me  the  favor,  Lord,  to  reform 
my  corrupt  reason  and  to  conform  my  sentiments  to  thine. 
Let  me  esteem  myself  happy  in  affliction,  and,  in  the  impo- 
tence of  acting  externally,  purify  my  sentiments  so  that  they 
may  no  longer  be  repugnant  to  thine ;  and  let  me  thus  find 
thee  within  myself,  since  I  cannot  seek  thee  without  because 
of  my  weakness.  For,  Lord,  thy  kingdom  is  within  thy  faith- 
ful ;  and  I  shall  find  it  within  myself,  if  I  find  there  thy  spirit 
and  thy  sentiments. 

X.  But,  Lord,  what  shall  I  do  to  force  thee  to  diffuse  thy 
spirit  over  this  miserable  earth  ?  All  that  I  am  is  odious  to 
thee,  and  I  find  nothing  in  myself  that  can  be  pleasing  to  thee. 
I  see  nothing  therein,  Lord,  but  my  sufferings,  which  bear  some 
resemblance  to  thine.  Consider  then  the  ills  that  I  suffer 
and  those  that  menace  me.  Look  with  an  eye  of  mercy  upon 
the  wounds  that  thy  hand  has  made,  O  my  Saviour,  who 
lovedst  thy  sufferings  in  death '  O  God,  who  wert  made  man 
only  to  suffer  more  than  any  other  man  for  the  salvation  of 
mankind !  O  God,  who  wert  not  incarnated  until  after  the 
bin  of  mankind,  and  who  only  tookest  upon  thyself  a  body  in 
order  to  suffer  therein  all  the  ills  which  our  sins  had  merited ! 
0  God,  who  lovedst  so  much  these  suf^ring  bodies  that  thou 
hast  chosen  for  thyself  a  body  more  oppressed  with  suffering 
than  any  that  has  ever  appeared  on  earth  !  Look  with  favor 
npon  my  body,  not  for  itself,  nor  for  all  that  it  contains,  for 

20* 


i66  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

every  thing  therein  is  deserving  of  thy  anger,  but  for  the  ilia 
that  it  endures,  which  alone  can  be  worthy  of  thy  love.  Love 
my  sufferings,  Lord,  and  let  my  ills  invite  thee  to  visit  me.  But 
to  finish  the  preparation  for  thy  abode,  grant,  O  my  Saviour, 
that  if  my  body  has  this  in  common  with  thine — that  it  suffers 
for  my  offences,  my  soul  may  also  have  this  in  common  with 
thine — that  it  may  be  plunged  in  sorrow  for  the  same  offences ; 
and  that  thus  I  may  suffer,  with  thee,  and  like  thee,  both  in 
my  body  and  in  my  soul,  for  the  sins  that  I  have  committed. 

XI.  Grant  me  the  favor,  Lord,  to  join  thy  consolations  to 
my  sufferings,  that  I  may  suffer  like  a  Christian.     I  ask  not  to 
be  exempt  from  sorrow,  for  this  is  the  recompense  of  the  saints ; 
but  I  ask  that  I  may  not  be  abandoned  to  the  sorrows  of  nature 
without  the  consolations  of  thy  spirit ;  for  this  is  the  curse  of 
the  Jews  and  the  heathen.     I  ask  not  to  have  a  fulness  of  con- 
solation without  any  suffering;  for  this  is  the  life  of  glory. 
Neither  do  I  ask  to  be  in  the  fulness  of  evils  without  consola- 
tion ;  for  this  is  the  state  of  Judaism.     But  I  ask,  Lord,  to  feel 
at  the  same  time  both  the  sorrows  of  nature  for  my  sins,  and 
the  consolations  of  thy  spirit  through  thy  grace ;  for  this  is  the 
true  condition  of  Christianity.     Let  me  not  feel  sorrow  without 
consolation ;  but  let  me  feel  sorrow  and  consolation  together, 
that  I  may  come  at  last  to  feel  thy  consolation  without  any 
sorrow.     For,  Lord,  thou  lettest  the  world  languish  in  natural 
suffering  without  consolation,  before  the  coming  of  thy  only 
Son :  now  thou  consolest  and  assuagest  the  sufferings  of  thy 
faithful  through  the  grace  of  thy  only  Son  :  and  thou  crownest 
thy  saints  with  a  pure  beatitude  in  the  glory  of  thy  only  Son. 
Such  are  the  admirable  degrees  through  which  thou  conduct- 
est  thy  work.     Thou  hast  drawn  me  from  the  first :  make  me 
pass  through  the  second,  to  arrive  at  the  third.     Lord,  this  is 
the  favor  that  I  ask  of  thee. 

XII.  Suffer  me  not  to  be  so  far  removed  from  thee,  that  I 
:an  consider  thy  soul  sorrowful  unto  death,  and  thy  body  a 
prey  to  death  for  my  own  sins,  without  rejoicing  to  suffer 
both  in  my.  body  and  in  my  soul.     For  what  is  there  mor« 
shameful,  and  yet  mere  common  in  Christians  and  in  my 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  467 

self,  than  that,  whilst  thou  sweatest  blood  for  the  expiation 
of  our  offences,  we  live  in  delights;  and  that  those  Chris 
tians  who  profess  to  belong  to  thee,  that  those  who  by  bap- 
tism have  renounced  the  world  to  follow  thee,  that  those 
who  have  sworn  solemnly  in  the  presence  of  the  Church  to 
live  and  die  for  thee,  that  those  who  profess  to  believe  that 
the  world  has  persecuted  and  crucified  thee,  that  those  who 
believe  that  thou  wert  exposed  to  the  wrath  of  God  and  the 
cruelty  of  men  to  ransom  them  from  their  crimes ;  that  those, 
I  say,  who  believe  all  these  truths,  who  consider  thy  body  as 
the  victim  that  was  yielded  up  for  their  salvation,  who  con- 
sider the  pleasures  and  the  sins  of  the  world  as  the  only  cause 
of  thy  sufferings,  and  the  world  itself  as  thy  executioner,  seek 
to  flatter  their  bodies  by  these  very  pleasures,  in  this  very 
world ;  and  that  those  who  cannot,  without  shuddering  with 
horror,  see  a  man  caress  and  cherish  the  murderer  of  his  father 
who  would  devote  himself  to  give  him  life,  can  live  as  I  have 
done,  with  full  joy,  in  the  world  that  I  know  to  have  been 
veritably  the  murderer  of  him  whom  I  acknowledge  for  my 
God  and  my  Father,  who  has  delivered  himself  up  for  my  own 
salvation,  and  who  has  borne  in  his  person  the  penalty  of  my 
iniquities?  It  is  just,  Lord,  that  thou  shouldst  have  inter- 
rupted a  joy  so  criminal  as  that  in  which  I  was  reposing  in  the 
shadow  of  death. 

XIII.  Remove  from  me  then,  Lord,  the  sadness  that  the 
love  of  self  might  give  me  for  my  own  sufferings  and  for  the 
things  of  the  world  that  do  not  succeed  to  the  satisfaction  of 
the  inclinations  of  my  heart,  and  that  do  not  regard  thy  glory ; 
but  create  in  me  a  sadness  in  conformity  with  thine.  Let  my 
Bufferings  serve  to  appease  thy  wrath.  Make  of  them  an  oc- 
casion for  my  salvation  and  my  conversion.  Let  me  hence- 
forth desire  health  and  life  only  to  employ  them  and  end  them 
for  thee,  with  thee,  and  in  thee.  I  ask  of  thee  neither  health, 
nor  sickness,  nor  life,  nor  death ;  but  that  thou  wilt  dispose  of 
uiy  health  and  my  sickness,  icy  life  and  my  death,  for  thy 
£lory,  for  my  salvation,  and  for  the  utility  of  the  Church  and 
of  thy  saints,  of  whom  I  hope  by  thy  grace  to  form  a  part 


468  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

Thou  alone  knowest  what  is  most  expedient  for  me  :  thon  art 
the  sovereign  master,  do  what  thou  wilt.  Give  to  me,  take 
from  me ;  but  conform  my  will  to  thine ;  and  grant  that  in 
humble  and  perfect  submission  and  in  holy  confidence,  I  may 
be  disposed  to  receive  the  orders  of  thy  eternal  providence 
and  that  I  may  adore  alike  all  that  comes  to  me  from  thee. 

XIV.  Grant,  my  God,  that  in  a  constantly  equal  uniform- 
ity of  spirit  I  may  receive  all  kinds  of  events,  since  we  know 
not  what  we  should  ask,  and  since  I  cannot  desire  one  more 
than  another  without  presumption,  and  without  rendering  my- 
self the  judge  of  and  responsible  for  the  results  that  thy  wis- 
dom has  rightly  been  pleased  to  hide  from  me.     Lord,  I  know 
only  that  I  know  but  one  thing,  that  it  is  good  to  follow  thee 
and  that  it  is  evil  to  offend  thee.     After  this,  I  know  not 
which  is  the  better  or  worse  of  any  thing ;  I  know  not  which 
is  more  profitable  to  me,  health  or  sickness,  wealth  or  poverty, 
nor  of  all  the  things  of  the  world.     This  is  a  discernment  that 
exceeds  the  power  of  men  or  of  angels,  and  that  is  hidden  in 
the  secrets  of  thy  providence  which  I  adore,  and  which  I  wish 
not  to  fathom. 

XV.  Grant  then,  Lord,  that  such  as  I  am  I  may  conform 
myself  to  thy  will ;  and  that  being  sick  as  I  am,  I  may  g'.o- 
rify  thee  in  my  sufferings.     Without  them  I  could  not  arrive 
at  glory ;  and  thou,  too,  my  Saviour,  hast  only  wished  to  at- 
tain it  through  them.     It  was  by  the  tokens  of  thy  sufferings 
\hat  thou  wert  recognized  by  thy  disciples ;  and  it  is  by  suffer- 
ings also  that  thou  wilt  recognize  thy  disciples.    Acknowledge 
aie  then  for  thy  disciple  in  the  evils  which  I  endure  both  in 
my  body  and  my  mind,  for  the  offences  that  I  have  commit- 
ted.    And  since  nothing  is  pleasing  to  God  if  it  be  not  offered 

hrough  thee,  unite  my  will  to  thine,  and  my  sorrows  to  those 
which  thou  hast  suffered.  Grant  that  mine  may  become  thine. 
Unite  me  to  thee ;  fill  me  with  thyself  and  with  thy  Holy 
Spirit.  Enter  into  my  heart  and  soul,  to  bear  in  them  my  suf- 
ferings, and  to  continue  to  endure  in  me  what  remains  to  thee 
to  suffer  of  thy  passion,  that  thou  mayest  complete  in  thy 
members  even  the  perfect  consummation  of  thy  body,  so  that 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  469 

being  full  of  thee,  it  may  no  longer  be  I  that  live  and  suffer, 
but  that  it  may  be  thou  that  livest  and  sufferest  in  me,  0  my 
Saviour !  And  that  thus  having  some  small  part  in  thy  suffer- 
ing %  thou  wilt  fill  me  entirely  with  the  glory  that  they  have 
acquired  for  thee,  in  which  thou  wilt  live  with  the  Father  and 
the  Holy  Spirit  through  ages  upon  ages.  So  be  it. 


COMPARISON  BETWEEN  CHRISTIANS 

OF  EAKLY  TIMES  AND  THOSE  OF  TO-DAY. 

IN  early  times,  Christians  were  perfectly  instructed  in  all  the 
points  necessary  to  salvation ;  whilst  we  see  to-day  so  gross  an 
ignorance  of  them,  that  it  makes  all  those  mourn  who  have 
sentiments  of  tenderness  for  the  Church. 

Men  only  entered  then  into  the  Church  after  great  labors 
and  long  desires ;  they  find  their  way  into  it  now  without  any 
trouble,  without  care,  and  without  labor. 

They  were  only  admitted  to  it  after  a  strict  examinatior. 
They  are  received  into  it  now  before  they  are  in  a  condition 
to  be  examined. 

They  were  not  received  then  until  after  having  abjured  their 
past  life,  until  after  having  renounced  the  world,  the  flesh,  and 
the  devil.  They  enter  it  now  before  they  are  in  a  condition  to 
do  any  of  these  things. 

In  short,  it  was  necessary  formerly  to  forsake  the  world  in 
order  to  be  received  into  the  Church ;  whilst  men  enter  now 
into  the  Church  at  the  same  time  as  into  the  world.  By  this 
process,  an  essential  distinction  was  then  known  between  the 
world  and  the  Church.  They  were  considered  as  two  oppo- 
eites,  as  two  irreconcilable  enemies,  of  which  the  one  perse- 
cuted the  other  without  cessation,  and  of  which  the  weaker  in 
appearance  should  one  day  triumph  over  the  stronger;  so  that 
»f  these  two  antagonistic  parties  men  quitted  the  one  to  enter 
Jie  other ;  they  abandoned  the  maxims  of  the  one  to  embrace 


470  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

the  maxims  of  the  other ;  they  put  off  the  sentiments  of  the 
one  to  put  on  the  sentiments  of  the  other ;  in  fine,  they  quitted, 
they  renounced,  they  abjured  this  world  in  which  they  had  re 
ceived  their  first  birth,  to  devote  themselves  entirely  to  th 
Church  in  which  they  received  as  it  were  their  second  birth 
and  thus  they  conceived  a  terrible  difference  between  the  two ; 
whilst  they  now  find  themselves  almost  at  the  same  time  in 
both  ;  and  the  same  moment  that  brings  us  forth  into  the 
world  makes  us  acknowledged  by  the  Church,  so  that  the 
reason  supervening,  no  longer  makes  a  difference  between 
these  two  opposite  worlds.  It  is  developed  in  both  together. 
Men  frequent  the  Sacraments,  and  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  the 
world ;  and  thus  whilst  formerly  they  saw  an  essential  difference 
between  the  two,  they  see  them  now  confounded  and  blended 
together,  so  that  they  can  no  longer  discriminate  between  them. 

Hence  it  is  that  formerly  none  but  well-instructed  persons 
were  to  be  seen  among  the  Christians,  whilst  they  are  now 
in  an  ignorance  that  inspires  one  with  horror;  hence  it  is 
that  those  who  had  formerly  been  regenerated  by  baptism, 
and  had  forsaken  the  vices  of  the  world  to  enter  into  tha 
piety  of  the  Church,  fell  back  so  rarely  from  the  Church  into 
the  world  ;  whilst  nothing  more  common  is  to  be  seen  at 
this  time  than  the  vices  of  the  world  in  the  hearts  of  Chris- 
tians. The  Church  of  the  Saints  is  found  defiled  by  the  min- 
gling of  the  wicked ;  and  her  children,  whom  she  has  con- 
ceived and  nourished  from  childhood  in  her  bosom,  are  the 
very  ones  who  carry  into  her  heart,  that  is  to  the  participation 
n  her  most  august  mysteries,  the  most  cruel  of  her  enemies, 
the  spirit  of  the  world,  the  spirit  of  ambition,  the  spirit  of  ven- 
geance, the  spirit  of  impurity,  the  spirit  of  concupiscence  ;  and 
the  love  that  she  has  for  her  children  obliges  her  to  admit  into 
her  very  bowels  the  most  cruel  of  her  persecutors. 

But  it  is  not  to  the  Church  that  should  be  imputed  the  mis 
fortunes  which  have  followed  a  change  in  such  salutary  disci 
pline,  for  she  has  not  changed  in  spirit,  however  she  may  have 
shanged  in  conduct.  Having  therefore  seen  that  the  deferring 
of  baptism  left  a  great  number  of  children  in  the  curse  o' 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  471 

Adam,  she  wished  to  deliver  them  from  this  mass  of  perdition 
by  hastening  the  aid  which  she  could  give  them  ;  and  this  good 
mother  sees  only  with  extreme  regret  that  what  she  devised 
for  the  salvation  of  these  children  has  become  the  occasion  for 
the  destruction  of  adults.  Her  true  spirit  is  that  those  whom 
she  withdraws  at  so  tender  an  age  from  the  contagion  of  the 
world,  shall  adopt  sentiments  wholly  opposed  to  those  of  the 
«orld.  She  anticipates  the  use  of  reason  to  anticipate  the 
vices  into  which  corrupt  reason  will  allure  them ;  and  before 
their  mind  has  power  to  act,  she  fills  them  with  her  spirit, 
that  they  may  live  in  ignorance  of  the  world  and  in  a  condi- 
tion so  much  the  more  remote  from  vice  as  they  will  never 
have  known  it.  This  appears  from  the  ceremonies  of  baptism  ; 
for  she  does  not  accord  baptism  to  children  until  after  they 
have  declared,  by  the  mouth  of  sponsors,  that  they  desire  it, 
that  they  believe,  that  they  renounce  the  world  and  Satan. 
And  as  she  wishes  that  they  should  preserve  these  intentions 
throughout  the  whole  course  of  their  lives,  she  commands  them 
expressly  to  keep  them  inviolate,  and  orders  the  sponsors,  by 
an  indispensable  commandment,  to  instruct  the  children  in  all 
these  things ;  for  she  does  not  wish  that  those  whom  she  has 
nourished  in  her  bosom  should  to-day  be  less  instructed  and 
less  zealous  than  the  adults  whom  she  admitted  in  former 
times  to  the  number  of  her  own ;  she  does  not  desire  a  less 
perfection  in  those  whom  she  nourishes  than  in  those  whom 

she  receives Yet  men  use  it  in  a  manner  so  contrary  to 

the  intention  of  the  Church,  that  one  cannot  think  of  it  with- 
out horror.  They  scarcely  reflect  any  longer  upon  so  great  a 
benefit,  because  they  have  never  wished  it,  because  they  have 
never  asked  it,  because  they  do  not  even  remember  having  re- 

teived  it 

lint  as  it  is  evident  that  the  Church  demands  no  less  zeal 
.  i  those  who  have  been  brought  up  servants  of  the  faith  than 
in  those  who  aspire  to  become  such,  it  is  necessary  to  place 
before  their  eyes  the  example  oi  the  catechumens,  to  consider 
Jheir  ardor,  their  devotion,  their  horror  of  the  world,  their 
generous  renunciation  of  the  world;  and  if  they  were  not 


4:72  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

deemed  worthy  of  receiving  baptism  without  this  disposition, 

those  who  do  not  find  it  in  themselves 

They  must  therefore  submit  to  receive  the  instruction  that 
they  would  have  had  if  they  had  begun  to  enter  into  the  com- 
munion of  the  Church ;  they  must  moreover  submit  to  a  con- 
tinual penitence,  and  have  less  aversion  for  the  austerity  01 
their  mortification  than  pleasure  in  the  use  of  delights  poi- 
soned by  sin 

To  dispose  them  to  be  instructed,  they  must  be  made  to 
understand  the  difference  of  the  customs  that  have  been  prac 
tised  in  the  Church  in  conformity  with  the  diversity  of  the 

times , 

As  in  the  infant  Church  they  taught  the  catechumens,  that 
is  those  who  aspired  to  baptism,  before  conferring  it  upon 
them ;  and  only  admitted  them  to  it  after  full  instruction  in 
the  mysteries  of  religion,  after  a  penitence  for  their  past  lives, 
after  profound  knowledge  of  the  greatness  and  excellence  of 
the  profession  of  the  faith  and  of  the  Christian  maxims  into 
which  they  desired  to  enter  forever,  after  eminent  tokens  of  a 
genuine  conversion  of  the  heart,  and  after  an  extreme  desire  of 
baptism.  These  things  being  known  to  all  the  Church,  the 
sacrament  of  incorporation  was  conferred  upon  them  by  which 
they  became  members  of  the  Church ;  whilst  in  these  times, 
baptism  having  been  accorded  to  children  before  the  use  of 
reason,  through  very  important  considerations,  it  happens  that 
the  negligence  of  parents  suffers  Christians  to  grow  old  with- 
out any  knowledge  of  the  greatness  of  our  religion. 

When  instruction  preceded  baptism,  all  were  instructed; 
but  now  that  baptism  precedes  instruction,  the  instruction  that 
was  necessary  has  become  voluntary,  and  then  neglected  and 
almost  abolished.  The  true  reason  of  this  conduct  is  that  men 
are  persuaded  of  the  necessity  of  baptism,  and  they  are  not 
persuaded  of  the  necessity  of  instruction.  So  that  when  in- 
struction preceded  baptism,  the  necessity  01  the  one  caused 
men  to  hava  recourse  to  the  other  necessarily ;  whilst  baptism 
at  the  present  time  preceding  instruction,  as  men  have  been 
*nade  Christians  without  having  been  instructed,  they  believe 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.         .  473 

that  they  can  remain  Christians  without  seeking  instruction.  .  , 
And  whilst  the  early  Christians  testified  so  much  gratitude 
towards  the  Church  for  the  favor  which  she  accorded  only  to 
their  long  prayers,  they  testify  to-day  so  much  ingratitude  for 
this  same  favor,  which  she  accords  to  them  even  before  they 
are  in  a  condition  to  ask  it.  And  if  she  detested  so  strongly 
the  lapses  of  the  former,  although  so  rare,  how  much  must  she 
hold  in  abomination  the  continual  lapses  and  relapses  of  the 
latter,  although  they  are  much  more  indebted  to  her,  since  she 
has  drawn  them  much  sooner  and  much  more  unsparingly 
from  the  damnation  to  which  they  were  bound  by  their  first 
birth  .  She  cannot,  without  mourning,  see  the  greatest  of  her 
favors  abused,  and  what  she  has  done  to  secure  their  salvation 
becomes  the  almost  certain  occasion  of  their  destruction.1 . . 


DISCOURSES 

ON  THE  CONDITION  OF  THE  GREAT.' 

I. 

IN  order  to  enter  into  a  real  knowledge  of  your  condition, 
consider  it  in  this  image  : 

A  man  was  cast  by  a  tempest  upon  an  unknown  island,  the 
inhabitants  of  which  were  in  trouble  to  find  their  king,  who 

1  This  fragment  was  first  published  by  Bossut.  M.  Faugere  has  given  a 
more  exact  text  after  the  MSS.  of  Father  Guerrier. 

a  These  discourses,  published  for  the  first  time  in  1670,  are  found  in  the 
Essat*  of  Nicole,  who  prefaces  them  with  the  following  explanations : 

"  One  of  the  things  upon  which  the  late  M.  Pascal  had  thought  the  most, 
was  the  instruction  of  a  prince  who  should  be  educated  in  the  manner 
most  in  conformity  with  the  condition  to  which  God  had  called  him,  and 
^eat  suited  to  render  him  capable  of  fulfilling  all  its  duties  and  of  shun- 
ning all  its  dangers.  He  has  often  been  heard  to  say,  that  there  was  noth- 
ing to  which  he  should  desire  more  to  contribute  if  he  were  engaged  in  it, 
>nd  that  he  would  willingly  sacrifice  his  lifc  for  so  important  an  object. 
And  as  he  was  accustomed  to  write  down  the  thoughts  that  occurred  to 
uim  upon  subjects  with  which  liis  mind  vis  occupied,  those  who  have 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES. 

was  lo&t;  and  having  a  strong  resemblance  both  in  form  and 
face  to  this  king,  he  was  taken  for  him,  and  acknowledged  in 
this  capacity  by  all  the  people.  At  first  he  knew  not  what 
course  to  take ;  but  finally  he  resolved  to  give  himself  up 
to  his  good  fortune.  He  received  all  the  homage  that  they 
chose  to  render  him,  and  suffered  himself  to  be  treated  as  a 
king. 

But  as  he  could  not  forget  his  real  condition,  he  was  con- 
scious, at  the  same  time  that  he  was  receiving  this  homage, 
that  he  was  not  the  king  whom  this  people  had  sought,  and 
that  this  kingdom  did  not  belong  to  him.  Thus  he  had  a 
double  thought :  the  one  by  which  he  acted  as  king,  the  other 
by  which  he  recognized  his  true  state,  and  that  it  was  accideni. 
alone  that  had  placed  him  in  his  present  condition.  He  con- 
cealed the  latter  thought,  and  revealed  the  other.  It  was  by 
the  former  that  he  treated  with  the  people,  and  by  the  latter 
that  he  treated  with  himself. 

known  him  are  astonished  at  having  found  nothing  among  his  remaining 
thoughts  regarding  this  matter  expressly,  though  it  may  be  said  in  one 
sense  that  they  all  regard  it,  there  being  few  books  that  can  better  serve 
to  form  the  mind  of  a  prince  than  the  collection  which  has  been  made  of 
them. 

"  It  must  be,  then,  either  that  what  he  had  written  on  the  subject  has 
been  lost,  or  that  having  these  thoughts  well  fixed  in  his  memory,  he 
neglected  to  write  them.  And  as  by  either  cause  the  public  finds  itself 
equally  deprived  of  them,  it  has  come  into  the  mind  of  a  person  who  was 
present  at  three  short  discourses  which  he  delivered  to  a  child  of  elevated 
condition,  and  whose  mind,  which  was  extremely  precocious,  was  already 
capable  of  the  strongest  truths,  to  write  nine  or  ten  years  afterwards  what 
he  had  retained  of  them.  Now  although  after  so  long  a  time  he  cannot 
say  that  these  are  the  very  words  which  M.  Pascal  used  at  the  time,  not- 
withstanding all  that  he  said  made  so  lively  an  impression  upon  his  mind 
that  it  was  not  possible  for  him  to  forget  it.  And  thus  he  can  affirm  that 
these  are  at  least  his  thoughts  and  his  sentiments." 

It  is  evident  that  the  person  who  heard  and  collected  the  three  discourses 
is  no  other  than  Nicole  himself.  As  to  the  child  to  whom  they  were  ad- 
dreased,  it  is  said  that  it  was  the  Duke  de  Roannez,  but  this  opinion  has 
beeii  discarded  for  plausible  reasons.  M.  Havet  thinks  that  it  might  have 
been  the  Prince  de  Guemente,  admitting  nevertheless  that  the  prince  \va<i 
very  young  for  so  grave  a  conversation,  since  he  was  scarcely  seven  yean 
old  at  tilt1  death  of  Pascal.  It  matters  little,  after  all,  to  whom  Paso 
•poke,  provided  that  we  know  what  he  said. 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  475 

Do  not  imagine  that  it  is  less  an  accident  by  -which  you  find 
yourself  master  of  the  wealth  which  you  possess,  than  that  by 
which  this  man  found  himself  king.  You  have  no  right  to  it 
of  yourself  and  by  your  own  nature  any  more  than  he :  and 
not  only  do  you  find  yourself  the  son  of  a  duke,  but  also  do 
you  find  yourself  in  the  world  at  all,  only  through  an  .infinity 
of  chances.  Your  birth  depends  on  a  marriage,  or  rather  on 
the  marriages  of  all  those  from  whom  you  descend.  But  upon 
what  do  these  marriages  depend  ?  A  visit  made  by  chance, 
an  idle  word,  a  thousand  unforeseen  occasions. 

You  hold,  you  say,  your  wealth  from  your  ancestors ;  but 
was  it  not  by  a  thousand  accidents  that  your  ancestors  acquired 
it  and  that  they  preserved  it?  A  thousand  others,  as  capable 
as  they,  have  either  been  unable  to  acquire  it,  or  have  lost  it 
after  having  gained  it.  Do  you  imagine,  too,  that  it  may  have 
been  by  some  natural  way  that  this  wealth  has  passed  from 
your  ancestors  to  you?  This  is  not  true.  This  order  is 
founded  only  upon  the  mere  will  of  legislators  who  may  have 
had  good  reasons,  but  none  of  which  was  drawn  from  a  natural 
right  that  you  have  over  these  things.  If  it  had  pleased  them 
to  order  that  this  wealth,  after  having  been  possessed  by  fathers 
during  their  life,  should  return  to  the  republic  after  their  death, 
you  would  have  no  reason  to  complain  cf  it. 

Thus  the  whole  title  by  which  you  possess  your  property,  is 
not  a  title  of  nature  but  of  a  human  institution.  Another  turn 
of  imagination  in  those  who  made  the  laws  would  have  ren- 
dered you  poor;  and  it  is  only  this  concurrence  of  chance 
which  caused  your  birth  with  the  caprice  of  laws  favorable  in 
your  behalf,  that  puts  you  in  possession  of  all  this  property. 

I  will  not  say  that  it  does  not  legitimately  belong  to  you, 
and  that  it  is  permissible  for  another  to  wrest  it  from  you ;  for 
God,  who  is  its  master,  has  permitted  communities  to  make 
laws  for  its  division,  and  when  these  laws  are  once  established, 
t  is  unjust  to  violate  them.  This  it  is  that  distinguishes  you 
somewhat  from  the  man  who  possessed  his  kingdom  only 
through  the  error  of  the  people  ;  because  God  did  not  authorize 
ihis  possession,  and  required  him  to  renounce  it,  whilst  he 


476  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

authorizes  yours.  But  what  you  have  wholly  in  common  with 
him  is,  that  this  right  which  you  have,  is  not  founded  any  more 
than  his  upon  any  quality  or  any  merit  in  yourself  which  ren- 
ders you  worthy  of  it.  Your  soul  and  your  body  are,  of  them- 
selves, indifferent  to  the  state  of  boatman  or  that  of  duke ;  and 
there  is  no  natural  bond  that  attaches  them  to  one  condition 
rather  than  to  another. 

What  follows  from  this?  that  you  should  have  a  double 
thought,  like  the  man  of  whom  we  have  spoken,  and  that,  if 
you  act  externally  with  men  in  conformity  with  your  rank, 
you  should  recognize,  by  a  more  secret  but  truer  thought,  that 
you  have  nothing  naturally  superior  to  them.  If  the  public 
thought  elevates  you  above  the  generality  of  men,  let  the  other 
humble  you,  and  hold  you  in  a  perfect  equality  with  all  man- 
kind, for  this  is  your  natural  condition. 

The  populace  that  admires  you  knows  not,  perhaps,  this 
secret.  It  believes  that  nobility  is  real  greatness,  and  it  almost 
considers  the  great  as  being  of  a  different  nature  from  others. 
Do  not  discover  to  them  this  error,  unless  you  choose ;  but  do 
not  abuse  this  elevation  with  insolence,  and,  above  all,  do  not 
mistake  yourself  by  believing  that  your  being  has  something 
in  it  more  exalted  than  that  of  others. 

What  would  you  say  of  that  man  who  was  made  king  by 
the  error  of  the  people,  if  he  had  so  far  forgotten  his  natural 
condition  as  to  imagine  that  this  kingdom  was  due  to  him, 
that  he  deserved  it,  and  that  it  belonged  to  him  of  right? 
You  would  marvel  at  his  stupidity  and  folly.  But  is  there 
less  in  the  people  of  rank  who  live  in  so  strange  a  forgetfulness 
of  their  natural  condition  ? 

How  important  is  this  advice !  For  all  the  excesses,  all  the 
violence,  and  all  the  vanity  of  great  men,  come  from  the  fact 
thivi  they  know  not  what  they  are  :  it  being  difficult  for  those 
who  regard  themselves  at  heart  as  equal  with  all  men,  and  who 
are  fully  persuaded  that  they  have  nothing  within  themselves 
that  merits  these  trifling  advantages  which  God  has  given  them 
over  ethers,  to  treat  them  with  insolence.  For  this  it  is  neces- 
lary  "or  one  to  forget  himself,  and  to  believe  that  he  has  some 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  477 

real  excellence  above  them,  in  which  consists  this  illusiot  that 
I  am  endeavoring  to  discover  to  you. 

II. 

It  is  well,  sir,  that  you  should  know  what  is  due  to  yon, 
that  you  may  not  pretend  to  exact  from  men  that  which  is  not 
due  to  you;  for  this  is  an  obvious  injustice;  and  nevertheless 
it  is  very  common  to  those  of  your  condition,  because  they  are 
ignorant  of  the  nature  of  it. 

O 

There  is  in  the  world  two  kinds  of  greatness :  for  there  is 
greatness  of  institution,  and  natural  greatness.  Greatness  of 
institution  depends  upon  the  will  of  men  who  have  with  reason 
thought  it  right  to  honor  certain  positions,  and  to  attach  to 
them  certain  marks  of  respect.  Dignities  and  nobility  are  of 
this  class.  In  one  country  the  nobles  are  honored,  in  another 
the  plebeians ;  in  this  the  eldest,  in  the  other  the  youngest. 
Why  is  this?  because  thus  it  has  been  pleasing  to  men.  The 
thing  was  indifferent  before  the  institution ;  since  the  institu- 
tion it  becomes  just,  because  it  is  unjust  to  disturb  it 

Natural  greatness  is  that  which  is  independent  of  the  caprice 
of  men,  because  it  consists  in  the  real  and  effective  qualities  of 
the  soul  or  the  body,  which  render  the  one  or  the  other  more 
estimable,  as  the  sciences,  the  enlightenment  of  the  mind, 
virtue,  health,  strength. 

We  owe  something  to  both  these  kinds  of  greatness ;  but 
as  they  are  of  a  different  nature,  we  owe  them  likewise  differ- 
ent respect.  To  the  greatness  of  institution  we  owe  the  respect 
of  institution,  that  is,  certain  external  ceremonies  which  should 
be  nevertheless  accompanied,  in  conformity  with  reason,  with 
an  infernal  recognition  of  the  justice  of  this  order,  but  which 
do  not  make  us  conceive  any  real  quality  in  those  whom  we 
honor  after  this  manner.  It  is  necessary  to  speak  to  kings  on 
the  bended  knee,  to  remain  standing  in  the  presence-chamber 
of  princes.  It  is  a  folly  and  baseness  of  spirit  to  refuse  to  them 
these  duties. 

But  as  for  the  natural  homage  which  consists  in  esteem,  we 


478  PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES. 

owe  it  only  to  natural  greatness ;  and  we  owe,  on  the  con- 
trary, contempt  and  aversion  to  qualities  contrary  to  this  natu- 
ral greatness.  It  is  not  necessary,  because  you  are  a  duke, 
that  I  should  esteem  you ;  but  it  is  necessary  that  I  should 
salute  you.  If  you  are  a  duke  and  a  gentleman,  I  shall  render 
what  I  owe  to  both  these  qualities.  I  shall  not  refuse  you  the 
ceremonies  that  are  merited  by  your  quality  of  duke,  nor  the 
esteem  that  is  merited  by  that  of  a  gentleman.  But  if  you 
were  a  duke  without  being  a  gentleman,  I  should  still  do  you 
justice ;  for  in  rendering  you  the  external  homage  which  the 
order  of  men  has*  attached  to  your  birth,  I  should  not  fail  to 
have  for  you  the  internal  contempt  that  would  be  merited  by 
your  baseness  of  mind. 

Therein  consists  the  justice  of  these  duties.  And  the  injus- 
tice consists  in  attaching  natural  respect  to  greatness  of  condi- 
tion, or  in  exacting  respect  of  condition  for  natural  greatness. 
M.  N.  .  . .  is  a  greater  geometrician  than  I ;  in  this  quality, 
he  wishes  to  take  precedence  of  me :  I  will  tell  him  that  he 
understands  nothing  of  the  matter.  Geometry  is  a  natural 
greatness ;  it  demands  a  preference  of  esteem ;  but  men  have 
not  attached  to  it  any  external  preference.  I  shall,  there- 
fore, take  precedence  of  him,  and  shall  esteem  him  greater 
than  I  in  the  quality  of  geometrician.  In  the  same  manner, 
if,  being  duke  and  peer,  you  would  not  be  contented  with  my 
standing  uncovered  before  you,  but  should  also  wish  that  I 
should  esteem  you,  I  should  ask  you  to  show  me  the  qualities 
that  merit  my  esteem.  If  you  did  this,  you  would  gain  it, 
and  I  could  not  refuse  it  to  you  with  justice ;  but  if  you  did 
not  do  it,  you  would  be  unjust  to  demand  it  of  me;  and 
assuredly  you  would  not  succeed,  were  you  the  greatest  prince 
in  the  world. 

III. 

I  wish,  sir,  to  make  known  to  you  your  true  condition ;  for 
fliis  is  the  thing  of  all  others  of  which  persons  of  your  class 
are  the  most  ignorant.  What  is  it,  in  your  opinion,  to  be  a 
nobleman  1  It  is  to  be  master  of  several  objects  that 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  479 

men  covet,  and  thus  to  be  able  to  satisfy  the  wants  and  the 
desires  of  many.  It  is  these  wants  and  these  desires  that 
attract  them  towards  you,  and  that  make  them  submit  to  you  : 
were  it  not  for  these,  they  would  not  even  look  at  you  ;  but 
they  hope,  by  these  services,  and  this  deference  which  they 
render  you,  to  obtain  from  you  some  part  of  the  good  which 
they  desire,  and  of  which  they  see  that  you  have  the  disposal. 

God  is  surrounded  with  people  full  of  love  who  demand  of 
him  the  benefits  of  love  which  are  in  his  power :  thus  he  is 
properly  the  king  of  love.  You  are  in  the  same  manner  sur- 
rounded with  a  small  circle  of  persons,  over  whom  you  reign 
in  your  way.  These  men  are  full  of  desire.  They  demand 
of  you  the  benefits  of  desire ;  it  is  desire  that  binds  them  to 
you.  You  are  therefore  properly  the  king  of  desire.  Your 
kingdom  is  of  small  extent ;  but  you  are  equal  in  this  to  the 
greatest  kings  of  the  earth  :  they  are  like  you  the  sovereigns 
of  desire.  It  is  desire  that  constitutes  their  power ;  that  is 
the  possession  of  things  that  men  covet. 

But  while  knowing  your  natural  condition,  avail  yourself  of 
the  means  that  it  gives  you,  and  do  not  pretend  to  rule  by  a 
different  power  than  by  that  which  makes  you  king.  It  is  not 
your  strength  and  your  natural  power  that  subjects  all  these 
people  to  you.  Do  not  pretend  then  to  rule  them  by  force  or 
to  treat  them  with  harshness.  Satisfy  their  reasonable  de- 
sirc.3 ;  alleviate  their  necessities ;  let  your  pleasure  consist  in 
being  beneficent ;  advance  them  as  much  as  you  can,  and  you 
will  act  like  the  true  king  of  desire. 

What  I  tell  you  does  not  go  very  far ;  and  if  you  stop  there 
j-ou  will  not  save  yourself  from  being  lost;  but  at  least  you 
will  be  lost  like  an  honest  man.  There  are  some  men  who  ex- 
pose themselves  to  damnation  so  foolishly  by  avarice,  by  bru 
tality,  by  debauches,  by  violence,  by  excesses,  by  blasphemies ! 
The  way  which  I  open  to  you  is  doubtless  the  most  honorable; 
but  in  truth  it  is  always  a  great  folly  for  a  man  to  expose  him- 
self to  damnation  ;  and  therefore  he  must  not  stop  at  this.  He 
must  despise  desire  and  its  kingdom,  and  aspire  to  that  king- 
dom of  I'.ve  in  which  all  the  subjects  breathe  nothing  but  love, 


480  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

and  desire  nothing  but  the  benefits  of  love.  Others  than  I  wil] 
show  you  the  way  to  this ;  it  is  sufficient  for  me  to  have 
turned  you  from  those  gross  ways  into  which  I  see  man.y  per- 
sons of  your  condition  suffer  themselves  to  be  led,  for  want  ol 
knowing  the  true  state  of  this  condition. 


ON  THE  CONVERSION  OF  THE  SINNER.1 

THE  first  thing  with  which  God  inspires  the  soul  that  he 
deigns  to  touch  truly,  is  a  knowledge  and  most  extraordinary 
insight  by  which  the  soul  considers  things  and  herself  in  a 
manner  wholly  new. 

This  new  light  gives  her  fear,  and  brings  her  a  trouble  that 

>  Father  Guerrier,  who  has  preserved  to  us  this  fragment,  says  that  he 
knows  not  whose  tttis  writing  is.  In  another  collection,  it  is  attributed  to 
Jacqueline  Pascal.  Bossut,  who  was  the  first  to  publish  it,  ascribes  it  to 
the  author  of  the  Thought*.  MM.  Faugere  and  Havet  are  of  the  opinion 
of  Bossut. 

"  It  is  indeed,"  says  M.  Faugere,  "the  thought  and  style  of  Pascal,  not, 
it  is  true,  in  his  most  mature  and  loftiest  manner,  but  in  that  already  so 
powerful  before  the  Provmciales ;  for  this  fragment  must  have  been  coin  - 
posed  in  1647  or  1648,  when  Pascal  had  just  entered,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
three  or  twenty-four,  that  phase  of  his  life  that  may  be  called  his  first  con- 
version ;  these  pages  express  the  peculiar  sentiments  of  his  soul." 

M.  Havet  is  not,  in  respect  to  the  date  at  which  this  fragment  was  writ- 
ten, of  the  opinion  of  M.  Faugere :  "  It  seems  to  me  that  Pascal  et- 
presses  here  what  passed  in  his  soul  during  that  critical  time  of  Ma  life  in 
which  was  laboriously  accomplished  his  great  and  hist  conversion,  that  is 
during  the  year  1654  .... 

"  There  is  a  letter  from  Jacqueline  to  Madame  Pener,  of  January  25, 
1055,  in  which  she  gives  the  history  of  the  conversion  of  her  brother,  and 
tbis  is  what  this  letter  contains :  '  lie  came  to  see  me  [about  tho  end  oi 
September,  1654]  and  in  this  visit  he  opened  himself  to  me  in  a  manner 
that  moved  me  to  pity,  confessing  to  me  that  in  the  midst  of  his  occupa- 
tion*, which  were  great,  and  among  all  the  things  that  could  contribute  to 
make  him  love  the  world,  and  to  which  there  was  reuson  to  believe  him 
ttrongly  attacAetl,  he  was  to  such  a  degree  solicited  to  quit  all  these,  both 
by  the  extreme  aversion  that  he  had  to  the  follies  and  amusements  of  the 
world,  find  by  the  continual  reproach  that  his  confidence  made  him,  that  he 
found  himself  detached  fi-om.  everything  to  a  degree  that  he  had  never  been 
before,  or  any  thing  approaching  to  it ;  but  that  he  was  besides  so 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  481 

penetrates  the  repose  which  she  found  in  the  things  that  made 
her  delights. 

She  can  no  longer  relish  with  tranquillity  the  things  that 
charmed  her.  A  continual  scruple  opposes  her  in  this  enjoy- 
ment, and  this  internal  sight  causes  her  to  find  no  longer  this 
accustomed  sweetness  among  the  things  to  which  she  aban- 
doned herself  with  a  full  effusion  of  heart. 

But  she  finds  still  more  bitterness  in  the  exercises  of  piety 
than  in  the  vanities  of  the  world.  On  one  side,  the  vanity  of 
the  visible  objects  interests  her  more  than  the  hope  of  the  in- 
visible, and  on  the  other  the  solidity  of  the  invisible  interests 
her  more  than  the  vanity  of  the  visible.  And  thus  the  pres- 
ence of  the  one  and  the  solidity  of  the  other  dispute  her  affec- 
tion, and  the  vanity  of  the  one  and  the  absence  of  the  other 
excite  her  aversion ;  so  that  a  disorder  and  confusion  spring  up 
in  her,  that 

She  considers  perishable  things  as  perishable  and  even  already 
perished  ;  and  in  the  certain  prospect  of  the  annihilation  ot 
every  thing  that  she  loves,  she  is  terrified  by  this  considera- 
tion, in  seeing  that  each  moment  snatches  from  her  the  en- 
joyment of  her  good,  and  that  what  is  most  dear  to  her 
glides  away  at  every  moment,  and  that  finally  a  certain  day 
will  come  in  which  she  will  find  herself  stripped  of  all  the 
things  in  which  she  had  placed  her  hope.  So  that  she  com- 
prehends perfectly  that  her  heart  being  attached  only  to  vain 

estranged,  from  the  side  of  God  that  he  felt  no  attraf,tion  to  it ;'  etc.  Is  not 
what  Jacqueline  relates  precisely  the  same  that  is  depicted  by  Pascal  3" 

As  to  M.  Cousin,  he  is  of  an  opinion  contrary  to  MM.  Faugere  and  Ha- 
vet:  ".Bossut,"  says  he  "was  the  first  to  publish  a  fragment  on  the  con 
version  of  the  sinner.  This  fragment  is  found  in  the  Memoires  of  Made- 
moiselle Perier  with  the  following  note :  '  This  writing  has  been  tran- 
scribed from  a  copy  which  is  among  the  papers  left  by  Mademoiselle  Pe- 
rier. The  blanks  are  found  in  it  as  they  are  marked.  The  name  of  tht 
author  is  not  there.  I  believe  it  to  have  been  by  Mademoiselle  Pascal  be- 
fore she  became  a  nun.'  We  incline  to  the  opinion  of  the  author  of  this 
note.  The  style  of  the  fragment  is  very  fine  ;  it  has  elevation,  and  even 
Btrength,  but  not  that  internal  vehemence  that  marks  the  most 
word*  of  Pascal." 

21 


482  PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES. 

and  fragile  things,  her  soul  must  be  left  alone  and  forsaken  on 
quitting  this  life,  since  she  has  not  taken  care  to  unite  herself 
to  a  true  and  self-subsisting  good  which  could  sustain  her  both 
during  and  after  this  life. 

Thence  it  comes  that  she  begins  to  consider  as  nothingness 
aH  that  must  return  to  nothingness, — the  heavens,  the  earth, 
her  spirit,  her  body,  her  relatives,  her  friends,  her  enemies, 
wealth,  poverty,  disgrace,  prosperity,  honor,  ignominy,  esteem, 
contempt,  authority,  indigence,  health,  sickness,  life  itself.  In 
fine,  all  that  is  less  durable  than  her  soul  is  incapable  of  satis- 
fying the  desire  of  this  soul,  which  seeks  earnestly  to  establish 
itself  in  a  felicity  as  durable  as  herself. 

She  begins  to  be  astonished  at  the  blindness  in  which  she 
has  lived,  and  when  she  considers,  on  the  one  hand,  the  long 
time  that  she  has  lived  without  making  these  reflections,  and 
the  great  number  of  people  who  live  in  the  same  way,  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  how  certain  it  is  that  the  soul,  being  immortal 
as  she  is,  cannot  find  her  felicity  among  perishable  things  which 
will  be  taken  away  from  her,  at  all  events,  by  death,  she  enters 
into  a  holy  confusion  and  an  astonishment  that  brings  to  her 
a  most  salutary  trouble. 

For  she  considers  that,  however  great  may  be  the  number 
of  those  who  grow  old  in  the  maxims  of  the  world,  and  what- 
ever may  be  the  authority  of  this  multitude  of  examples  of 
those  who  place  their  felicity  in  this  world,  it  is  nevertheless 
certain  that,  even  though  the  things  of  the  world  should  have 
some  solid  pleasure,  which  is  recognized  as  false  by  an  infinite 
number  of  fearful  and  continual  examples,  it  is  inevitable  that 
we  shall  lose  these  things,  or  that  death  at  last  will  deprive  us 
of  them  ;  so  that  the  soul  having  amassed  treasures  of  temporal 
goods,  of  whatever  nature  they  may  be,  whether  gold,  or  science, 
or  reputation,  it  is  an  indispensable  necessity  that  she  shall  find 
herself  stripped  of  all  these  objects  of  her  felicity;  and  that  thus, 
if  they  have  had  wherewith  to  satisfy  her,  they  will  not  always 
have  wherewith  to  satisfy  her ;  and  that,  if  it  is  to  procure  her 
self  a  real  happiness,  it  is  not  to  promise  herself  a  very  durabl* 
happiness,  since  it  must  be  limited  to  the  courso  of  this  life. 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  483 

So  that,  by  a  holy  humility  which  God  exalts  above  pride,  she 
begins  to  exalt  herself  above  the  generality  of  mankind :  she 
condemns  their  conduct,  she  detests  their  maxims,  she  bewails 
their  blindness ;  she  devotes  herself  to  the  search  for  the  true 
good ;  she  comprehends  that  it  is  necessary  that  it  should  have 
the  two  following  qualities  :  the  one  that  it  shall  last  as  long 
as  herself,  and  that  it  cannot  be  taken  away  from  her  except 
by  her  consent^  and  the  other  that  there  shall  be  nothing  more 
lovely. 

She  sees  that  in  the  love  she  has  had  for  the  world,  she 
found  in  it  this  second  quality  in  her  blindness ;  for  she  per- 
ceived nothing  more  lovely.  But  as  she  does  not  see  the  first 
in  it,  she  knows  that  it  is  not  the  sovereign  good.  She  seeks 
it,  therefore,  elsewhere,  and  knowing  by  a  pure  light  that  it  is 
not  in  the  things  that  are  within  her,  or  without  her,  or  before 
her  (in  nothing,  therefore,  within  or  around  her),  she  begins 
to  seek  it  above  her. 

This  elevation  is  so  eminent  and  so  transcendant  that  sho 
does  not  stop  at  the  heavens, — they  have  not  wherewith  to  sat- 
isfy her, — nor  above  the  heavens,  nor  at  the  angels,  nor  at  the 
most  perfect  beings.  She  passes  through  all  created  things,  and 
cannot  stop  her  heart  until  she  has  rendered  herself  up  at  the 
throne  of  God,  in  which  she  begins  to  find  her  repose  and  that 
good  which  is  such  that  there  is  nothing  more  lovely,  and 
which  cannot  be  taken  away  from  her  except  by  her  own 
consent. 

For  although  she  does  not  feel  those  charms  with  which 
God  recompenses  continuance  in  piety,  she  comprel^ends, 
nevertheless,  that  created  things  cannot  be  more  lovely  than 
their  Creator;  and  her  reason,  aided  by  the  light  of  grace, 
makes  her  understand  that  there  is  nothing  more  lovely  than 
God,  and  that  he  can  only  be  taken  away  from  those  who 
eject  him,  since  to  possess  him  is  only  to  desire  him,  and  to 
refuse  him  is  to  lose  him. 

Thus  she  rejoices  at  having  found  a  good  which  cannot  be 
wrested  from  her  so  long  as  she  shal'  desire  it,  and  which  haa 
nothing  above  it 


4:84  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

And  in  these  new  reflections  she  enters  into  sight  of  the 
grandeur  of  her  Creator,  and  into  humiliations  and  profound 
adorations.  She  becomes,  in  consequence,  reduced  to  nothing 
and  being  unable  to  form  a  base  enough  idea  of  herself,  or  to 
conceive  an  exalted  enough  idea  of  this  sovereign  good,  she 
makes  new  efforts  to  abase  herself  to  the  lowest  abysses  of 
nothingness,  in  considering  God  in  the  immensities  which  she 
multiplies  without  ceasing.  In  fine,  in  this  conception,  which 
exhausts  her  strength,  she  adores  him  in  silence,  she  considers 
herself  as  his  vile  and  useless  creature,  and  by  her  reiterated 
homage  adores  and  blesses  him,  and  wishes  to  bless  and  to 
adore  him  forever.  Then  she  acknowledges  the  grace  which 
he  has  granted  her  in  manifesting  his  infinite  majesty  to  so 
vile  a  worm ;  and  after  a  firm  resolution  to  be  eternally  grate- 
ful for  it,  she  becomes  confused  for  having  preferred  so  many 
vanities  to  this  divine  master ;  and  in  a  spirit  of  compunction 
and  penitence  she  has  recourse  to  his  pity  to  arrest  his  anger, 
the  effect  of  which  appears  terrible  to  her.  In  the  sight  of 
these  immensities 

She  makes  ardent  prayers  to  God  to  obtain  of  his  mercy 
that,  as  it  has  pleased  him  to  discover  himself  to  her,  it  may 
please  him  to  conduct  her  to  him,  and  to  show  her  the  means 
of  arriving  there.  For  as  it  is  to  God  that  she  aspires,  she 
aspires  also  only  to  reach  him  by  means  that  come  from  God 
himself,  because  she  wishes  that  he  himself  should  be  her  path, 
her  object,  and  her  final  end.  After  these  prayers,  she  begins 
to  act,  and  seeks  among  these 

She  begins  to  know  God,  and  to  desire  to  reach  him ;  but 
as  she  is  ignorant  of  the  means  of  attaining  this,  if  her  desire 
is  sincere  and  true,  she  does  the  same  as  a  person  who,  desiring 
to  reach  some  place,  having  lost  his  way,  and  knowing  his 
aberration,  would  have  recourse  to  those  who  knew  this  way 
perfectly,  and 

She  resolves  to  conform  to  his  will  during  the  remainder  o* 
her  life ;  but  as  her  natural  weakness,  with  the  habit  that  she 
has  of  the  sins  in  which  she  has  lived,  have  reduced  her  to  the 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  485 

impotence  of  attaining  this  felicity,  she  implores  of  his  mercy 
the  means  of  reaching  him,  of  attaching  herself  to  him,  of 

adhering  to  him  eternally 

Thus  she  perceives  that  she  should  adore  God  as  a  creature, 
render  thanks  to  him  as  a  debtor,  satisfy  him  as  a  criminal, 
and  pray  to  him  as  one  poor  and  needy. 


CONVERSATION  OF  PASCAL 

WITH  M.  DE  SACI 
ON  EPICTETUS   AND   MONTAIGNE.* 

"  M.  PASCAL  came,  too,  at  this  time,  to  live  at  Port-Royal 
des  Champs.  I  do  not  stop  to  tell  who  this  man  was,  whom 
not  only  all  France,  but  all  Europe  admired ;  his  mind  always 
acute,  always  active,  was  of  an  extent,  an  elevation,  a  firmness, 

1  This  chapter,  s&ys  M.  Cousin,  is  a  debrig  of  a  conversation  that  took 
place  at  Port-Royal  between  Saci  and  Pascal  several  years  before  the  Pro- 
vinciales.  The  secretary  of  Saci,  Fontaine,  who  was  present  at  this  con- 
versation, recounts  it  in  tome  ii,  of  his  Memoiret,  printed  at  Utrecht  in 
173d.  Before  the  appearance  of  these  memoir**,  Father  Desmolets,  libra- 
rian of  the  Oratoire,  had  access  to  them,  and  extracted  from  them  this  con- 
versation, which  he  published  in  the  Memoireg  de  literature  et  (fhutoire, 
t.  v,  1728. 

" '  It  must  be,'  wrote  the  Abbe  d'Etemare  to  Marguerite  Perier,  in  1731, 
"  that  this  conversation  of  M.  Pascal  with  M.  de  Saci  was  put  in  writing 
on  the  spot  by  M.  Fontaine.  It  is  indubitably  M.  Fontaine's  in  style,  but 
it  bears,  in  substance,  the  character  of  M.  Pascal  to  a  point  that  M.  Fon- 
aine  could  not  imitate.'  Bossut  has  had  the  mistaken  idea  of  putting  this 
conversation,  like  the  Discourses  on  the  Condition  of  the  Great,  among  the 
Thought*,  which  it  preceded  several  years,  since  it  was  anterior  to  the  Pro- 
vincial. Letters  themselves;  and  to  introduce  it  there,  he  has  mutilated  and 
disfigured  it ;  he  has  suppressed  the  form  of  a  dialogue,  taken  away  all 
that  Saci  said,  and  only  retained  what  was  spoken  by  Pascal ;  then,  to 
bind  together  these  disjointed  fragments  and  make  of  them  a  whole,  he 
was  forced  to  put  in  links  of  his  own  composition.  Still  more :  Bossut 
finds  that  Pascal  speaks  sometimes  a  little  too  much  at  length  through  the 
mouth  of  the  good  Fontaine,  and  then  he  suppresses  all  that  appears  to  him 
'anguishing;  sometimes,  on  the  contrary  he  adds  to  Fontaine  and  elabo- 
rates UiLu,  olleiiest,  he  breaks  up  aud  decomposes  his  long  teutences,  and 


486  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

a  penetration,  and  a  clearness  exceeding  any  thing  that  can  be 
believed.  .  .  .  This  admirable  man,  being  finally  moved  by 
God,  submitted  this  lofty  mind  to  the  yoke  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  this  great  and  noble  heart  embraced  penitence  with  hu- 
mility. He  came  to  Paris  to  throw  himself  into  the  arms  of 
M.  Singlin,  resolved  to  do  all  that  he  should  order  him.  M. 
Singlin  thought,  on  seeing  this  great  genius,  that  he  should  do 
well  to  send  him  to  Port-Royal  des  Champs,  where  M.  Ar- 
nauld  would  cope  with  him  in  the  sciences,  and  where  M.  de 
Saci  would  teach  him  to  despise  them.  He  came  therefore  to 
live  at  Port-Koyal.  M.  de  Saci  could  not  courteously  avoid 
seeing  him,  especially  having  been  urged  to  it  by  M.  Singlin ; 
but  the  holy  enlightenment  which  he  found  in  the  Scripture 
and  in  the  Fathers  made  him  hope  that  he  would  not  be 
dazzled  by  all  the  brilliancy  of  M.  Pascal,  which  neverthe- 
less charmed  and  carried  away  all  the  world.  He  found  in 
fact  all  that  he  said  very  just.  He  acknowledged  with  pleas- 
ure the  strength  of  his  mind  and  conversation.  All  that  M. 
Pascal  said  to  him  that  was  remarkable  he  had  seen  before  in 
St.  Augustine,  and  doing  justice  to  every  one,  he  said :  '  M. 
Pascal  is  extremely  estimable  in  that,  not  having  read  the 
Fathers  of  the  Church,  he  has  of  himself,  by  the  penetration 
of  his  mind,  found  the  same  truths  that  they  had  found.  He 
finds  them  surprising,  he  says,  because  he  has  not  found  them 
in  any  place ;  but  for  us,  we  are  accustomed  to  see  them  on 
every  side  in  our  books.'  Thus,  this  wise  ecclesiastic,  finding 
that  the  ancients  had  not  less  light  than  the  moderns,  held  to 


iffaces  the  logical  and  argumentative  forms  of  the  language  of  the  aeven- 
eenth  century." 

As  a  matter  of  course,  we  give  here  the  conversation  in  all  its  integrity. 
Cnly  we  do  not  follow  the  text  of  Fontaine,  but  that  of  Father  Desmolets, 
which  appears  to  us,  as  is  also  the  opinion  of  Havet,  the  most  preferable ; 
this  is  explained  by  the  circumstance  that  Father  Desmolets,  in  1728,  re- 
produced almost  integrally  the  MS.  of  Fontaine,  whilst  the  editors  of  th« 
latter,  en  printing  this  MS.  in  1736,  made  numerous  changes  therein.  [Sea 
on  this  fragment,  Saiute-Beuve,  PortrRoyal,  t.  ii,  p.  369.— Cousin,  Dtt 
Ftnteu  de  Pascal,  Paris,  1843,  in  8vo,  p.  29  and  foUowing. — Kavet, 
cxxiiL] 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  487 

them,  and  esteemed  M.  Pascal  greatly  because  he  agreed  in 
all  things  with  St.  Augustine. 

"  The  usual  way  of  M.  de  Saci,  in  conversing  with  people, 
was  to  adapt  his  conversation  to  those  with  whom  he  was 
talking.  If  he  met,  for  example,  M.  Champagne,  he  talked 
with  him  of  painting.  If  he  met  M.  Hamon,  he  talked  with 
him  of  medicine.  If  he  met  the  surgeon  of  the  place,  he  ques- 
tioned him  on  surgery.  Those  who  cultivated  the  vine,  or 
trees,  or  grain,  told  him  all  that  was  remarkable  about  them. 
Every  thing  served  to  lead  him  speedily  to  God  and  to  lead 
othert  there  with  him.  He  thought  it  his  duty  therefore  to 
put  M.  Pascal  in  his  province,  and  to  talk  with  him  of  the 
philosophical  readings  with  which  he  had  been  most  occupied. 
He  led  him  to  this  subject  in  the  first  conversations  that  they 
had  together.  M.  Pascal  told  him  that  his  two  most  familiar 
books  had  been  Epictetus  and  Montaigne,  and  highly  eulo- 
gized these  two  minds.  M.  de  Saci,  who  had  always  thought 
>t  a  duty  to  read  but  little  of  these  two  authors,  entreated  M. 
Pascal  to  speak  of  them  to  him  at  length." 

"  Epictetus,"  says  he, "  is  among  the  philosophers  of  the  world 
who  have  best  understood  the  duties  of  man.  He  requires, 
before  all  things,  that  he  should  regard  God  as  his  principal 
object;  that  he  should  be  persuaded  that  he  governs  every 
thing  with  justice ;  that  he  should  submit  to  him  cheerfully, 
and  that  he  should  follow  him  voluntarily  in  every  thing,  as 
doing  nothing  except  with  the  utmost  wisdom :  as  thus  this 
disposition  will  check  all  complaints  and  murmurs,  and  will 
prepare  his  mind  to  suffer  tranquilly  the  most  vexatious  events. 
Never  say,  says  he,  I  have  lost  this  ;  say  rather,  I  have  restored 
it.  My  son  is  dead,  I  have  restored  him.  My  wife  is  dead,  I 
have  restored  her.  So  with  property  and  with  every  thing 
else.  But  he  who  has  deprived  me  of  it  is  a  wicked  man,  you 
eay.  Why  does  it  trouble  you  by  whom  the  one  who  Lias  lent 
it  to  you  demands  it  of  you  again  ?  While  he  permits  you  the 
nse  of  it,  take  care  of  it  as  property  belonging  to  another,  as  a 
dfian  who  is  travelling  would  do  in  an  inn.  You  ought  not, 
•ays  he,  to  desire  that  things  should  be  done  as  you  wish,  but 


488  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

you  ought  to  wish  that  they  should  be  done  as  they  are  done. 
Remember,  says  he  elsewhere,  that  you  are  here  as  an  actor, 
and  that  you  play  the  part  in  a  drama  that  it  pleases  the 
manager  to  give  you.  If  he  gives  you  a  short  one,  play  a 
short  one ;  if  he  gives  you  a  long  one,  play  a  long  one ;  if  he 
wishes  you  to  feign  the  beggar,  you  should  do  it  with  all  the 
simplicity  possible  to  you ;  and  so  with  the  rest.  It  is  your 
business  to  play  well  the  part  that  is  given  you ;  but  to  choose 
it  is  the  business  of  another.  Have  every  day  before  your  eyes 
death  and  the  evils  which  seem  the  most  intolerable ;  and  you 
will  never  think  of  any  thing  lower  and  will  desire  nothing 
with  excess. 

"  He  shows,  too,  in  a  thousand  ways  what  man  should  do.  He 
requires  that  he  should  be  humble,  that  he  should  conceal  his 
good  resolutions,  especially  in  the  beginning,  and  that  he  should 
accomplish  them  in  secret :  nothing  destroys  them  more  than 
to  reveal  them.  He  never  tires  of  repeating  that  the  whole 
study  and  desire  of  man  should  be  to  perceive  the  will  of  God 
and  to  pursue  it. 

u  Such,  sir,  said  M.  Pascal  to  M.  do  Saci,  was  the  enlighten- 
ment of  this  great  mind  that  so  well  understood  the  duties  of 
man.  I  dare  say  that  he  would  have  merited  to  be  adored  \j 
he  had  also  known  his  impotence  as  well,  since  it  is  necessarj 
to  be  a  god  to  teach  both  to  men.  Thus  as  he  was  clay  and 
ashes,  after  having  so  well  comprehended  what  was  due,  be- 
hold how  he  destroys  himself  in  the  presumption  of  what  can 
be  done.  He  says  that  God  has  given  to  every  man  the 
means  of  acquitting  himself  of  all  his  obligations;  that  these 
means  are  always  in  our  power ;  that  we  must  seek  felicity 
through  the  things  that  are  in  our  power,  since  God  has  given 
them  to  us  for  this  end :  we  must  see  what  there  is  in  us  that 
is  free ;  that  wealth,  life,  esteem,  are  not  in  our  power,  and 
therefore  do  not  lead  to  God ;  but  that  the  mind  cannot  be 
"breed  to  believe  what  it  knows  to  be  false,  nor  the  will  to  love 
what  it  knows  will  render  it  unhappy ;  that  these  two  powers 
are  therefore  free,  and  that  it  is  through  them  that  we  cay 
renuer  ourselves  perfect;  that  man  can  by  the«e  powers  oe*- 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  489 

fectly  know  God,  love  him,  obey  him,  please  him,  cure  himself 
of  all  his  vices,  acquire  all  the  virtues,  render  himself  holy,  and 
thus  the  companion  of  God.  These  principles  of  a  diabolic 
pride  lead  him  to  other  errors,  as  that  the  soul  is  a  portion 
of  the  divine  substance ;  that  sorrow  and  death  are  not  evils ; 
that  one  may  kill  himself  when  he  is  persecuted  to  such  a 
degree  that  he  has  reason  to  believe  that  God  calls  him,  and 
others. 

"  As  for  Montaigne,  of  whom  you  wish  too,  sir,  that  I  should 
speak  to  you,  being  born  in  a  Christian  State,  he  made  profes- 
sion of  the  Catholic  religion,  and  in  this  there  was  nothing 
peculiar.  But  as  he  wished  to  discover  what  morals  reason 
would  dictate  without  the  light  of  faith,  he  based  his  princi- 
ples upon  this  supposition  ;  and  thus,  considering  man  as  des- 
titute of  all  revelation,  he  discourses  in  this  wise.  He  puts  all 
things  in  a  universal  doubt,  so  general  that  this  doubt  bears 
away  itself,  that  is  whether  he  doubts,  and  even  doubtirg  this 
latter  proposition,  his  uncertainty  revokes  upon  itself  in  a  per- 
petual and  restless  circle,  alike  opposed  to  those  who  affirm 
that  every  thing  is  uncertain  and.  to  those  who  affirm  that 
every  thing  is  not  so,  because  he  will  affirm  nothing.1  It  is  in 
this  doubt  which  doubts  itself,  and  in  this  ignorance  which  is 
ignorant  of  itself,  and  which  he  calls  his  master-form,  that 

1  Does  not  Pascal  abuse  here  the  power  of  his  imagination,  to  impose 
on  oar  weakness  by  the  energy  of  words  ?  What  is  this  phantom  of  in- 
credulity which  he  takes  pleasure  in  conjuring  up  in  order  to  crush  it 
easily  beneath  the  weight  of  his  im-incible  eloquence'  where  can  he 
then  find  in  the  avowals  of  so  ingenious  and  so  modest  a  philosopher,  that 
incorrigible  Pyrrhonist,  pursued  by  doubt  even  into  his  doubt  itself,  and 
exchanging  follies  without  being  able  to  cure  them.  Montaigne  never 
doubted  either  of  God  or  of  virtue  .  .  .  He  finds  in  the  nature  of  man  terrible 
difficulties  and  inscrutable  mysteries;  he  looks  with  pity  upon  the  error 
of  our  reason,  the  weakness  and  the  uncertainty  of  our  understanding 
be  ntf?cts  sometimes  to  level  us  with  the  brutes  ;  i>nd  then  Pascal  approves 
bim  ....  Why  then,  Pascal,  did  you  exculpate  yourself  just  now  to  a 
•age  for  distrusting  this  reason  which  yon  yourself  acknowledge  as  so 
R'eak  and  so  deceitful  ?  Do  yon  now  wish  to  .eacl  him  through  impotence 
»f  thinking  to  the  necessity  of  believing,  and  does  it  seem  to  you  that  thew 
is  need  of  snatching  from  him  the  torch  of  reason  in  order  to  precipitaU 
him  into  faith  ?—  Viikmain. 

21° 


490  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

nes  the  essence  of  his  opinion,  which  he  was  unatle  to  ex- 
press by  any  positive  term.  For  if  he  says  that  he  doubts,  he 
betrays  himself  in  affirming  at  least  that  he  doubts ;  which 
being  formally  against  his  intention,  he  could  only  explain  it 
by  interrogation  ;  so  that,  not  wishing  to  say :  "  I  do  not 
know,"  he  says  :  "  What  do  I  know  ? "  Of  this  he  makes  his 
device,  placing  it  under  the  scales  which,  weighing  contradic- 
tories, are  found  in  perfect  equilibrium  :  that  is,  it  is  pure  Pyr- 
rhonism. Upon  this  principle  revolve  all  his  discourses  and 
all  his  essays  ;  and  it  is  the  only  thing  that  he  pretends  really 
to  establish,  although  he  does  not  always  point  out  his  inten- 
tion. He  destroys  in  them  insensibly  all  that  passes  for  the 
most  certain  among  men,  not  indeed  to  establish  the  contrary 
with  a  certainty  to  which  alone  he  is  the  enemy,  but  merely 
to  show  that,  appearances  being  equal  on  both  sides,  one 
knows  not  where  to  fix  his  belief. 

**  In  this  spirit  be  jests  at  all  affirmations  ;  for  example,  he 
combats  those  who  have  thought  to  establish  in  France  a  great 
remedy  against  lawsuits  by  the  multitude  and  the  pretended 
justice  of  the  laws :  as  if  one  could  cut  off  the  root  of  the 
doubts  whence  arise  these  lawsuits,  and  as  if  there  were  dikes 
that  could  arrest  the  torrent  of  uncertainty  and  take  conjec- 
tures captive !  Thus  it  is  that,  when  he  says  that  he  would  as 
soon  submit  his  cause  to  the  first  passer-by  as  to  judges  armed 
with  such  a  number  of  ordinances,  he  does  not  pretend  that 
we  should  change  the  order  of  the  State, — he  has  not  so 
much  ambition ;  nor  that  his  advice  may  be  better, — he  be- 
lieves none  good.  It  is  only  to  prove  the  vanity  of  the  most 
received  opinions ;  showing  that  the  exclusion  of  all  laws 
would  rather  diminish  the  number  of  disputants  whilst  the 
multiplicity  of  laws  serves  only  to  increase  them,  since  diffi- 
tulties  grow  in  proportion  as  they  are  weighed;  since  obscuri- 
ties are  multiplied  by  commentaries ;  and  since  the  surest  way 
to  understand  the  meaning  of  a  discourse  is  not  to  examine  it, 
and  to  take  it  on  the  first  appearance  :  as  soon  as  it  is  scrutin- 
ized, all  its  clearness  becomes  dissipated.  In  the  like  rnannei 
he  judges  by  chance  of  all  the  acts  of  men  and  the  points  o1 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  491 

history,  sometimes  in  one  way,  sometimes  in  another,  freely 
following  his  first  impression,  and,  without  constraining  his 
thought  by  the  rules  of  reason,  which  has  only  false  measures, 
he  delights  to  show,  by  his  example,  the  contrarieties  of  the 
same  mind.  In  this  free  genius,  it  is  alike  equal  to  him  to 
get  the  better  or  not  in  the  dispute,  having  always,  by  either 
example,  a  means  of  showing  the  weakness  of  opinions ;  being 
sustained  with  so  much  advantage  in  this  universal  doubt,  that 
he  is  strengthened  in  it  alike  by  his  triumph  and  his  defeat. 

"  It  is  from  this  position,  floating  and  wavering  as  it  is,  that 
he  combats  with  an  invincible  firmness  the  heretics  of  his 
times  in  respect  to  their  affirmation  of  alone  knowing  the  true 
sense  of  the  Scripture  ;  and  it  is  also  from  this  that  he  thun- 
ders forth  most  vigorously  against  the  horrible  impiety  of 
those  who  dare  to  affirm  that  God  is  not  He  attacks  them 
especially  in  the  apology  of  Raimond  de  Sebonde ;  and  find- 
ing them  voluntarily  destitute  of  all  revelation,  and  abandoned 
to  their  natural  intelligence,  all  faith  set  aside,  he  demands  of 
them  upon  what  authority  they  undertake  to  judge  of  this 
sovereign  Being  who  is  infinite  by  his  own  definition,  they 
who  know  truly  none  of  the  things  of  nature  !  He  asks  them 
upon  what  principles  they  rest ;  he  presses  them  to  show 
them.  He  examines  all  that  they  can  produce;  and  pene- 
trates them  so  deeply,  by  the  talent  in  which  he  excels,  that 
he  demonstrates  the  vanity  of  all  those  that  pass  for  the  firm- 
est and  the  most  natural.  He  asks  whether  the  soul  knows 
any  thing ;  whether  she  knows  herself ;  whether  she  is  sub 
stance  or  accident,  body  or  spirit,  what  is  each  of  these  things, 
and  whether  there  is  any  thing  that  does  not  belong  to  one  of 
these  orders  ;  whether  she  knows  her  own  body,  what  is  mat- 
ter, and  whether  she  can  discern  among  the  innumerable 
variety  of  bodies  from  which  it  is  produced ;  how  she  can 
reason  if  she  is  material ;  ao'l  how  she  can  be  united  to  a  par- 
ticular body  and  feel  its  passions  if  she  is  spiritual :  when  she 
commenced  to  be  ?  with  the  body  or  before  ?  and  whether 
she  will  end  with  it  or  not ;  whether  she  is  never  mistaken  ; 
whether  she  knows  when  she  errs,  seeing  that  the  essence  of 


4:92  PASCAL. —  OP06CULE8. 

contempt  consists  in  not  knowing  it ;  whether  in  her  obscuritj 
she  does  not  believe  as  firmly  that  two  and  three  make  six  as 
she  knows  afterwards  that  they  make  five ;  whether  animals 
reason,  think,  talk ;  and  who  can  determine  what  is  time,  what 
is  space  or  extent,  what  is  motion,  what  is  unity,  what  are  all 
the  things  that  surround  us  and  are  wholly  inexplicable  to  us ; 
'what  is  health,  sickness,  life,  death,  good,  evil,  justice,  sin,  of 
which  we  constantly  speak ;  whether  we  have  within  us  the 
principles  of  truth,  and  whether  those  which  we  believe,  and 
which  are  called  axioms  or  common  notions,  because  they  are 
common  to  all  men,  are  in  conformity  with  the  essential  truth. 
And  since  we  know  but  by  faith  alone  that  an  all-good  Being 
has  given  them  to  us  truly  in  creating  us  to  know  the  truth, 
who  can  know  without  this  light  whether,  being  formed  by 
chance,  they  are  not  uncertain,  or  whether,  being  formed  by  a 
lying  and  malicious  being,  he  has  not  given  them  to  us  falsely 
in  order  to  lead  us  astray  ?  Showing  by  this  that  God  and 
truth  are  inseparable,  and  that  if  the  one  is  or  is  not,  if  it  is 
certain  or  uncertain,  the  other  is  necessarily  the  same.  Who 
knows  then  whether  the  common-sense,  that  we  take  for  the 
judge  of  truth,  can  be  the  judge  of  that  which  has  created  it? 
Besides,  who  knows  what  truth  is,  and  how  can  we  be  sure  of 
having  it  without  understanding  it  ?  Who  knows  even  what 
is  being,  which  it  is  impossible  to  define,  since  there  is  nothing 
more  general,  and  since  it  would  be  necessary  at  first,  to  ex- 
plain it,  to  use  the  word  itself:  It  is  being  . . .  ?  And  since 
we  know  not  what  is  soul,  body,  time,  space,  motion,  truth, 
good,  nor  even  being,  nor  how  to  explain  the  idea  that  we 
form  within  ourselves,  how  can  we  assure  ourselves  that  it  is 
the  same  in  all  men,  seeing  that  we  have  no  other  token  than 
the  uniformity  of  consequences,  which  is  not  always  a  sign  of 
that  of  principles ;  for  they  may  indeed  be  very  different,  and 
lead  nevertheless  to  the  same  conclusions,  every  one  knowing 
that  the  true  is  often  inferred  from  the  false. 

"  Lastly,  he  examines  thus  profoundly  the  sciences,  both 
geometry,  of  which  he  shows  the  uncertainty  in  the  axiom! 
md  the  terms  that  she  does  not  define,  as  centre,  motion,  etc. 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  493 

physics  in  many  more  ways,  and  medicine  in  an  infinity  of 
methods;  history,  politics,  ethics,  jurisprudence,  and  the  rest. 
So  that  we  remain  convinced  that  we  think  no  better  at  pres- 
ent than  in  a  dream  from  which  we  shall  wake  only  at  death, 
and  during  which  we  have  the  principles  of  truth  as  little  as 
during  natural  sleep.  It  is  thus  that  he  reproaches  reason 
d; vested  of  faith  so  strongly  and  so  cruelly  that,  making  her 
doubt  whether  she  is  rational,  and  whether  animals  are  so  or 
not,  or  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  he  makes  her  descend  from 
the  excellence  which  she  has  attributed  to  herself,  and  places 
her  through  grace  on  a  level  with  the  brutes,  without  permit- 
ting her  to  quit  this  order  until  she  shall  have  been  instructed 
by  her  Creator  himself  in  respect  to  her  rank,  of  which  she  is 
ignorant;  threatening,  if  she  grumbles,  to  place  her  beneath 
every  thing,  which  is  as  easy  as  the  opposite,  and  nevertheless 
giving  her  power  to  act  only  in  order  to  remark  her  weakness 
with  sincere  humility,  instead  of  exalting  herself  by  a  foolish 
insolence;" 

"  M.  de  Saci,  fancying  himself  living  in  a  new  country,  and 
listening  to  a  new  language,  repeated  to  himself  the  words  of 
St.  Augustine :  0  God  of  truth !  are  those  who  know  these 
subtleties  of  reasoning  therefore  more  pleasing  to  thee  ?  He 
pitied  this  philosopher  who  pricked  and  tore  himself  on  every 
side  with  the  thorns  that  he  formed,  as  St.  Augustine  said  of 
himself  when  he  was  in  this  state.  After  some  meditation,  he 
laid  to  M.  Pascal : 

"  I  thank  you,  sir ;  I  am  sure  that  if  I  had  read  Montaigne 
a  long  time,  I  should  not  know  him  so  well  as  I  do,  since  the 
conversation  that  I  have  just  had  with  you.  This  man  should 
wish  that  he  might  never  be  known,  except  by  the  recitals 
that  you  make  of  his  writings;  and  he  might  say  with  St. 
Augustine  :  Ibi  me  vide,  attend?..  I  believe  assuredly  that  this 
man  had  talent ;  but  I  know  not  whether  you  do  not  lend  to 
:.im  a  little  more  than  he  had,  by  the  logical  chain  that  you 
make  of  his  principles.  You  can  judge  that,  having  passed 
/ny  life  as  I  have  done,  I  have  had  little  counsel  to  read  thin 
author,  the  works  of  whom  had  nothing  of  that  which  w« 


494  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

ought  chiefly  to  seek  in  our  reading,  according  to  the  rule  of 
St.  Augustine,  because  his  works  do  not  appear  to  proceed 
from  a  solid  basis  of  humility  and  piety.  We  should  forgive 
those  philosophers  of  former  times  who  styled  themselves 
academicians,  for  putting  every  thing  in  doubt.  But  what 
need  had  Montaigne  to  divert  the  mind  by  reviving  a  doctrine 
which  passes  now  in  the  eyes  of  Christians  for  a  folly  ?  This 
is  the  judgment  that  St.  Augustine  passes  on  these  persons. 
For  we  can  say  after  him  of  Montaigne  :  He  sets  faith  aside  in 
every  thing  that  he  says ;  therefore  we,  who  have  faith,  should  set 
aside  every  thing  that  he  says.  I  do  not  blame  the  talent  of  this 
author,  which  was  a  great  gift  from  God ;  but  he  might  have 
used  it  better,  and  made  a  sacrifice  of  it  to  God  rather  than  to 
the  devil.  What  avails  a  blessing  when  one  uses  it  so  ill  ? 
Quid  proderat,  etc.,  said  this  holy  doctor  of  him  before  his 
conversion.  You  are  fortunate,  sir,  in  having  raised  yourself 
above  these  people,  who  are  called  doctors,  who  are  plunged 
in  drunkenness,  but  whose  hearts  are  void  of  truth.  God  has 
poured  out  into  your  heart  other  sweets  and  other  attractions 
than  those  which  you  find  in  Montaigne.  He  has  recalled 
you  from  that  dangerous  pleasure,  a  jucunditate  pestifera,  says 
St.  Augustine,  who  renders  thanks  to  God  that  he  has  for- 
given him  the  sins  which  he  had  committed  in  delighting  too 
much  in  vanity.  St.  Augustine  is  so  much  the  more  credible 
in  this  that  he  held  formerly  the  same  sentiments ;  and  as  you 
say  of  Montaigne  that  it  is  through  universal  doubt  that  he 
combats  the  heretics  of  his  times,  so  through  this  same  doubt 
of  the  academicians,  St.  Augustine  forsook  the  heresy  of  the 
Manicheans.  As  soon  as  he  belonged  to  God,  he  renounced 
these  vanities,  which  he  calls  sacrileges.  He  perceived  with 
what  wisdom  St.  Paul  warned  us  not  to  suffer  ourselves  to  be 
Beduced  by  these  discourses.  For  he  acknowledges  that  there 
is  in  them  a  certain  harmony  which  fascinates :  we  sometimes 
believe  things  true  only  because  they  are  narrated  eloquently. 
Those  are  dangerous  viands,  says  he,  that  arc  served  up  in  fine 
dishes ;  but  these  viands,  instead  of  nourishing  the  heart,  starve 
it.  We  then  resemble  men  who  sleep,  and  who  fancy  tha 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES  495 

they  eat  while  sleeping :  these  imaginary  viands  leave  them 
as  empty  as  they  were  before. 

"  M.  de  Saci  made  several  similar  remarks  to  M.  Pascal : 
whereupon  M.  Pascal  said  to  him,  that  if  he  complimented 
him  on  thoroughly  possessing  Montaigne,  and  of  knowing  how 
to  construe  him  well,  he  could  tell  him  without  flattery  that  he 
understood  St.  Augustine  much  better,  and  that  he  knew  how 
to  construe  him  much  better,  though  little  to  the  advantage 
of  poor  Montaigne.  He  expressed  himself  as  being  extremely 
edified  by  the  solidity  of  all  that  he  had  just  represented  to 
him ;  nevertheless,  being  full  of  his  author,  he  could  not  con- 
tain himself,  and  thus  continued  : 

"  I  acknowledge,  sir,  that  I  cannot  see  without  joy  in  this 
author  proud  reason  so  irresistibly  baffled  by  its  own  weapons, 
and  that  fierce  contention  of  man  with  man,  which,  from  the 
companionship  with  God,  to  which  he  had  exalted  himself  by 
maxims,  hurls  him  down  to  the  nature  of  brutes ;  and  I  should 
have  loved  with  all  my  heart  the  minister  of  so  great  a  ven- 
geance, if,  being  a  disciple  of  the  Church  by  faith,  he  had  fol- 
lowed the  rules  of  ethics,  in  bringing  men  whom  he  had  so 
usefully  humiliated,  not  to  irritate  by  new  crimes  him  who 
alone  can  draw  them  from  the  crimes  which  he  has  convicted 
them  of  not  being  able  even  to  know. 

"  But  he  acts  on  the  contrary  like  a  heathen  in  this  wise. 
On  this  principle,  says  he,  outside  of  faith  every  thing  is  in  un- 
certainty, and  considering  how  much  men  seek  the  true  and 
the  good  without  making  any  progress  towards  tranquillity,  he 
concludes  that  one  should  leave  the  care  of  them  to  others ; 
and  remain  nevertheless  in  repose,  skimming  lightly  over  suc- 
jects  for  fear  of  going  beyond  one's  depth  in  them  ;  and  take 
the  true  and  the  good  on  first  appearances,  without  dwelling 
on  them,  for  they  are  so  far  from  being  solid  that  if  one  grasps 
them  ever  so  lightly,  they  will  s'ip  through  his  fingers  and 
leave  them  empty.  For  this  reason  he  follows  the  evidence 
of  the  senses  and  common-sense,  because  he  would  be  obliged 
to  do  violence  to  himself  to  contradict  them,  and  because  he 
snows  not  whether  he  would  gain  by  it,  ignorant  as  to  wherw 


496  PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES. 

the  truth  is.  So  he  shuns  pain  and  death,  because  his  instinci 
impels  him  to  it,  and  because  he  will  not  resist  for  the  same 
reason,  but  without  concluding  thence  that  these  may  be  the 
real  evils,  not  confiding  too  much  in  these  natural  emotions  of 
fear,  seeing  that  we  feel  others  of  pleasure  which  are  accused 
of  being  wrong,  although  nature  speaks  to  the  contrary.  Thus 
there  is  nothing  extravagant  in  his  conduct ;  he  acts  like  the 
rest  of  mankind,  and  all  that  they  do  in  the  foolish  idea  that 
they  are  pursuing  the  true  good,  he  does  trom  another  princi- 
ple, which  is  that  probabilities  being  equsu  on  either  side,  ex 
ample  and  convenience  are  the  counterpoises  that  decide  him. 

"  He  mounts  his  horse  like  a  man  that  is  not  a  philosopher, 
because  he  suffers  it,  but  without  believing  that  this  is  hia 
right,  not  knowing  whether  this  animal  has  not,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  right  to  make  use  of  him.  He  also  does  some  vio- 
lence to  himself  to  avoid  certain  vices ;  and  he  even  preserves 
fidelity  to  marriage  on  account  of  the  penalty  that  follows  ir- 
regularities ;  but  if  the  trouble  that  he  takes  exceeds  that 
which  he  avoids,  it  does  not  disturb  him,  the  rule  of  this  ac- 
tion being  convenience  and  tranquillity.  He  utterly  rejects 
therefore  that  stoical  virtue  which  is  depicted  with  a  severe 
mien,  fierce  glance,  bristling  locks,  and  wrinkled  and  moist 
brow,  in  a  painful  and  distorted  posture,  far  from  men,  in  a 
gloomy  silence,  alone  upon  the  summit  of  a  rock  :  a  phantom, 
he  says,  fit  to  frighten  children,  and  which  does  nothing  else 
with  continual  effort  than  to  seek  the  repose  which  it  never 
attains.  His  own  is  simple,  familiar,  pleasant,  playful,  and  as 
we  may  say  sportive  :  she  follows  whatever  charms  her,  and 
toys  negligently  with  good  and  bad  accidents,  reclining  effem- 
inately in  the  bosom  of  a  tranquil  indolence,  from  which  she 
shows  to  those  who  seek  felicity  with  so  much  toil  that  it  is 
only  there  where  she  if  reposing,  and  that  ignorance  and  in- 
curiosity are  soft  pillows  for  a  well-balanced  head,  as  he  him- 
»elf  has  said. 

"  I  cannot  conceal  from  you,  sir,  that  in  reading  this  author 
and  comparing  him  with  Epictetus,  I  have  found  that  they  are 
assuredly  the  two  greatest  defenders  of  the  two  most  celebrate 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  497 

sects  of  the  world,  and  the  only  ones  conformable  to  reason, 
since  we  can  only  follow  one  of  these  two  roads,  namely : 
either  that  there  is  a  God,  and  then  we  place  in  him  the  sov- 
ereign good  ;  or  that  he  is  uncertain,  aud  that  then  the  true 
good  is  also  uncertain,  since  he  is  incapable  of  it.  I  have 
taken  extreme  pleasure  in  remarking  in  these  different  reason- 
ings wherein  both  have  reached  some  conformity  with  the 
true  wisdom  which  they  have  essayed  to  understand.  For  it 
it  is  pleasing  to  observe  in  nature  her  desire  to  paint  God  in 
all  his  works,  in  which  we  see  some  traces  of  him  because  they 
are  his  images,  how  much  more  just  is  it  to  consider  in  the 
productions  of  minds  the  efforts  which  they  make  to  imitate 
the  essential  truth,  even  in  shunning  it,  and  to  remark  where- 
in they  attain  it  and  wherein  they  wander  from  it,  as  I  have 
endeavored  to  do  in  this  study. 

"  It  is  true,  sir,  that  you  have  just  shown  me,  in  an  admira- 
ble manner,  the  little  utility  that  Christians  can  draw  from 
these  philosophic  studies.  I  shall  not  refrain  however,  with 
your  permission,  from  teiling  you  still  further  my  thoughts 
on  the  subject,  ready,  however,  to  renounce  all  light  that 
does  not  come  from  you,  in  which  I  shall  have  the  advantage 
either  of  having  encountered  truth  by  good  fortune  or  of 
receiving  it  from  you  with  certainty.  It  appears  to  me  that 
the  source  of  the  errors  of  these  two  sects,  is  in  not  having 
known  that  the  state  of  man  at  the  present  time  differs  from 
that  of  his  creation ;  so  that  the  one,  remarking  some  traces 
of  his  first  greatness  and  being  ignorant  of  his  corruption,  has 
treated  nature  as  sound  and  without  need  of  redemption, 
which  leads  him  to  the  height  of  pride  ;  whilst  the  other,  feel- 
ing the  present  wretchedness  and  being  ignorant  of  the  origi- 
nal dignity,  treats  nature  as  necessarily  infirm  and  irrepara- 
ble, which  precipitates  it  into  despair  of  arriving  at  real  good, 
and  thence  into  extreme  laxity.  Thus  these  two  states  which 
it  is  necessary  to  knew  together  in  order  to  see  the  whole  truth, 
being  known  separately,  lead  necessarily  to  one  of  these  two 
vices,  pride  or  indolence,  in  which  all  men  are  invariably  be- 
fcre  grace,  since  if  they  do  not  remain  in  their  disorders 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

through  laxity,  they  forsake  them  through  vanity,  so  true  is 
that  which  you  have  just  repeated  to  me  from  St.  Augustine, 
and  which  I  find  to  a  great  extent ;  for  in  fact  homage  is  ren- 
dered to  them  in  many  ways. 

"  It  is  therefore  from  this  imperfect  enlightenment  that  it 
happens  that  the  one,  knowing  the  duties  of  man  and  being 
ignorant  of  his  impotence,  is  lost  in  presumption,  and  that  the 
other,  knowing  the  impotence  and  being  ignorant  of  the  duty, 
falls  into  laxity  ;  whence  it  seems  that  since  the  one  leads  to 
truth,  the  other  to  error,  there  would  be  formed  from  their 
alliance  a  perfect  system  of  morals.  But  instead  of  this  peace, 
nothing  but  war  and  a  general  ruin  would  result  from  their 
union  ;  for  the  one  establishing  certainty,  the  other  doubt,  the 
one  the  greatness  of  man,  the  other  his  weakness,  they  would 
destroy  the  truths  as  well  as  the  falsehoods  of  each  other. 
So  that  they  cannot  subsist  alone  because  of  their  defects, 
nor  unite  because  of  their  opposition,  and  thus  they  break 
and  destroy  each  other  to  give  place  to  the  truth  of  the  Gos- 
pel. This  it  is  that  harmonizes  the  contrarieties  by  a  wholly 
divine  act,  and  uniting  all  that  is  true  and  expelling  all  that  is 
false,  thus  makes  of  them  a  truly  celestial  wisdom  in  which 
those  opposites  accord  that  were  incompatible  in  human  doc- 
trines. And  the  reason  of  this  is,  that  these  philosophers  of 
the  world  place  contrarieties  in  the  same  subject ;  for  the  one 
attributed  greatness  to  nature  and  the  other  weakness  to  this 
same  nature,  which  could  not  subsist ;  whilst  faith  teaches  us 
to  place  them  in  different  subjects  :  all  that  is  infirm  belonging 
to  nature,  all  that  is  powerful  belonging  to  grace.  Such  is  the 
marvellous  and  novel  union  which  God  alone  could  teach,  and 
which  he  alone  could  make,  and  which  is  only  a  type  and  an 
effect  of  the  ineffable  union  of  two  natures  in  the  single  person 
of  a  Man-God. 

"  I  a^k  your  pardon,  sir,  said  M.  Pascal  to  M.  de  Saci,  for 
being  thus  carried  away  in  your  presence  into  theology,  instead 
of  remaining  in  philosophy,  which  alone  was  my  subject ;  but 
I  was  led  to  it  insensibly ;  and  it  is  difficult  not  to  enter  upon 
it  whatever  truth  may  be  discussed,  because  it  is  the  centre  <Y 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  499 

til  the  truths ;  which  appears  here  perfectly,  since  it  so  ob- 
viously includes  all  those  that  are  found  in  these  opinions. 
Thus  I  do  not  see  how  any  of  them  could  refuse  to  follow  it. 
For  if  they  are  full  of  the  idea  of  the  greatness  of  man,  what 
have  they  imagined  that  does  not  yield  to  the  promises  of  the 
Gospel,  which  are  nothing  else  than  the  worthy  price  of  the 
death  of  a  God  ?  And  if  they  delighted  in  viewing  the  infirmi- 
ties of  nature,  their  ideas  do  not  equal  those  of  the  real  weak- 
ness of  sin,  of  which  the  same  death  has  been  the  remedy. 
Thus  all  find  in  it  more  than  they  have  desired ;  and  what  is 
marvellous,  they  who  could  not  harmonize  in  an  infinitely  in- 
ferior degree,  then  find  themselves  in  unison !" 

"  M.  de  Saci  could  not  refrain  from  testifying  to  M.  Pascal 
that  he  was  surprised  to  see  how  well  he  knew  how  to  in- 
terpret things ;  but  he  acknowledged  at  the  same  time  that 
every  one  had  not  the  secret  of  making  on  these  readings  such 
wise  and  elevated  reflections.  He  told  him  that  he  was  like 
those  skilful  physicians,  who  by  an  adroit  method  of  preparing 
the  most  deadly  poisons  knew  how  to  extract  from  them  the 
most  efficacious  remedies.  He  added,  that  though  he  saw 
clearly,  from  what  he  had  just  said,  that  these  readings  were 
useful  to  him,  he  could  not  believe  however  that  they  would 
be  advantageous  to  many  people  of  slow  intellect,  who  would 
not  have  elevation  of  mind  enough  to  read  these  authors  and 
judge  of  them,  and  to  know  how  to  draw  pearls  from  the  midst 
of  the  dunghill,  aurum  ex  stercore,  as  said  one  of  the  Fathers. 
This  could  be  much  better  said  of  these  philosophers,  the  dung- 
hill of  whom,  by  its  black  fumes,  might  obscure  the  wavering 
faith  of  those  who  read  them.  For  this  reason  he  would  always 
counsel  such  persons  not  to  expose  themselves  lightly  to  these 
readrrigs,  for  fear  of  being  destroyed  with  these  philosophers, 
and  of  becoming  the  prey  of  demons  and  the  food  of  worms, 
according  to  the  language  of  the  Scripture,  as  these  philoso- 
phers have  been." 

"  As  to  the  utility  of  these  readings,  said  M.  Pascal,  I  will 
tell  you  simply  my  tho'-ight.  I  find  in  Epictetus  an  incom- 
parable art  for  tioubling  the  repoee  of  those  who  seek  it  in  ex- 


500  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

ternal  things,  and  for  forcing  them  to  acknowledge  that  they  are 
veritable  slaves  and  miserable  blind  men ;  that  it  is  impossible 
that  they  should  find  any  thing  else  than  the  error  and  pain 
which  they  fly,  unless  they  give  themselves  without  reserve  to 
God  alone.  Montaigne  is  incomparable  for  confounding  the 
pride  of  those  who,  outside  of  faith,  pique  themselves  in  a 
genuine  justice;  for  disabusing  those  who  cling  to  their  opin- 
ions, and  who  think  to  find  in  the  sciences  impregnable  truths ; 
and  for  so  effectually  convicting  reason  of  its  want  of  light  and 
its  aberrations,  that  it  is  difficult,  when  one  makes  a  good  use 
of  its  principles,  to  be  tempted  to  find  repugnance  in  myste- 
ries; for  the  mind  is  so  overwhelmed  by  him,  that  it  is  far 
from  wishing  to  judge  whether  the  Incarnation  or  the  mystery 
of  the  Eucharist  are  possible ;  which  the  generality  of  mankind 
discuss  but  too  often. 

"  But  if  Epictetus  combats  indolence,  he  leads  to  pride,  so 
that  he  may  be  very  injurious  to  those  who  are  not  persuaded 
of  the  corruption  of  the  most  perfect  justice  which  is  not  from 
faith.  And  Montaigne  is  absolutely  pernicious  to  those  who 
have  any  leaning  to  impiety  or  vice.  For  this  reason  these 
readings  should  be  regulated  with  much  care,  discretion,  and 
regard  to  the  condition  and  disposition  of  those  to  whom  they 
ire  counselled.  It  seems  to  me  only  that  by  joining  them 
together  they  would  not  succeed  ill,  since  the  one  is  opposed 
to  the  evil  of  the  other  :  not  that  they  could  bestow  virtue  but 
only  disturb  vice ;  the  soul  finding  itself  combated  by  contra- 
rieties, the  one  of  which  expels  pride  and  the  other  indolence, 
and  being  unable  to  be  tranquil  in  any  of  these  vices  by  their 
reasonings,  or  to  shun  them  all." 

"  It  was  thus  that  these  two  persons  of  so  fine  an  intellect 
agreed  at  last  upon  the  subject  of  the  reading  of  these  philoso- 
phers, and  met  at  the  same  goal,  which  they  reached  however 
by  a  somewhat  different  method ;  M.  de  Saci  arriving  there  at 
once  through  the  clear  views  of  Christianity,  and  M.  Pascal 
reaching  it  only  after  many  turns  by  clinging  to  the  principles 
of  these  philosophers." 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  501 


THE  ART  OF  PERSUASION.1 

THE  art  of  persuasion  has  a  necessary  relation  to  the  man- 
ner in  which  men  are  led  to  consent  to  that  which  is  proposed 
to  them,  and  to  the  conditions  of  things  which  it  is  sought 
to  make  them  believe. 

No  one  is  ignorant  that  there  are  two  avenues  by  which 
opinions  are  received  into  the  soul,  which  are  its  two  principal 
powers  :  the  understanding  and  the  will.  The  more  natural 
is  that  of  the  understanding,  for  we  should  never  consent  to 
Wiy  but  demonstrated  truths  ;  but  the  more  common,  though 
the  one  contrary  to  nature,  is  that  of  the  will ;  for  all  men  are 
almost  always  led  to  believe  not  by  proof,  but  by  attraction 
This  way  is  base,  ignoble,  and  irrelevant :  every  one  therefore 
disavows  it.  Each  one  professes  to  believe  and  even  to  lov«i 
nothing  but  what  he  knows  to  be  worthy  of  belief  and  love. 

I  do  not  speak  here  of  divine  truths,  which  I  shall  take  care 
not  to  comprise  under  the  art  of  persuasion,  because  they  art 

»  The  Art  of  Persuasion,  says  M.  Faugere,  like  the  treatise  on  the  Geo- 
metrical Spirit,  has  for  its  object  the  application  of  the  method  of  geome- 
tricians to  the  art  of  reasoning  in  general.  There  is  even  every  reason  to 
believe  that  this  writing  was  only  the  reproduction  of  the  latter  in  a  briefer 
and  more  didactic  form.  The  authors  of  the  Loyique  de  Port-Royal,  al- 
though they  make  no  mention  of  it,  have  evidently  made  use  of  it  for  their 
chapter  On  the  Method  of  Composition. 

"  As  to  the  date  of  this  fragment,  we  do  not  think  that  it  belongs  to  the 
youth  of  Pascal,  to  the  time  that  may  be  called  his  first  epoch,  because: 
1st,  It  bears  the  stamp  of  maturity ;  2d,  Pascal,  after  having  said  that 
there  may  be  as  certain  rules  for  pleasing  as  for  demonstrating,  adds  that 
if  any  one  is  capable  of  teaching  them,  he  knows  that  it  is  those  persona  with, 
whom  he  is  acquainted,  and  that  no  others  have  such  clear  ami  abundant  light 
on  this 'subject.  Pascal  means  here  most  probably  Arnauld  and  Nicole: 
the  Logique  de  Port-Royal  was  their  work,  and  no  doubt  Pascal  had  con- 
versed with  them  on  these  matters.  Now  Pascal  did  not  connect  himself 
with  the  Messieurs  of  Port-Royal  until  the  close  o*1654,  after  his  return  to 
religion.  3d,  At  the  end  of  the  same  writing,  Ptscal  speaks  of  his  long 
Experience  in  all  kinds  of  books  and  persons." 

This  fragment  was  published  for  t..e  first  time  by  Father  Desmolets, 
In  the  continuation  of  the  Memoires  de  Literature  el  d'JIistoire,  t.  v,  part  ii. 

We  follow  the  text  of  M.  Fangere. 


502  PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES. 

infinitely  superior  to  nature  :  God  alone  can  place  them  in  the 
soul  and  in  such  a  way  as  it  pleases  him.  I  know  that 
he  has  desired  that  they  should  enter  from  the  heart  intc 
the  mind,  and  not  from  the  mind  into  the  heart,  to  humiliate 
that  proud  power  of  reasoning  that  pretends  to  the  right  to 
be  the  judge  of  the  things  that  the  will  chooses;  and  to  cure 
this  infirm  will  which  is  wholly  corrupted  by  its  filthy  attach- 
ments. And  thence  it  comes  that  whilst  in  speaking  of  hu- 
man things,  we  say  that  it  is  necessary  to  know  them  before 
we  can  love  them,  which  has  passed  into  a  proverb,'  the  saints 
on  the  contrary  say  in  speaking  of  divine  things  that  it  is  ne- 
cessary to  love  them  in  order  to  know  them,  and  that  we  only 
enter  truth  through  charity,  from  which  they  have  made  one 
of  their  most  useful  maxima. 

From  which  it  appears  that  God  has  established  this  super- 
natural order,  which  is  directly  contrary  to  the  order  that 
should  be  natural  to  men  in  natural  things.  They  have 
nevertheless  corrupted  this  order  by  making  of  profane  things 
what  they  should  make  of  holy  things,  because  in  fact  we  be- 
lieve scarcely  any  thing  except  that  which  pleases  us.  And 
thence  comes  the  aversion  which  we  have  to  consenting  to 
the  truths  of  the  Christian  religion  that  are  opposed  to  our 
pleasures.  "  Tell  us  of  pleasant  things  and  we  will  hearken 
to  you,"  said  the  Jews  to  Moses ;  as  if  the  agreeableness  of  a 
thing  should  regulate  belief!  And  it  is  to  punish  this  disorder 
by  an  order  which  is  conformed  to  him,  that  God  only  pours 
out  his  light  into  the  mind  after  having  subdued  the  rebellion 
of  the  will  by  an  altogether  heavenly  gentleness  which  charms 
and  wins  it. 

I  speak  therefore  only  of  the  truths  within  our  reach  ;  and 
it  is  of  them  that  I  say  that  the  mind  and  the  heart  are  as 
doors  by  which  they  are  received  into  the  soul,  but  that  very 
few  enter  by  the  mind,  whilst  they  are  brought  in  in  crowds 
by  the  rash  caprices  of  the  will,  without  the  counsel  of  tha 
reason. 

1  lonoti  nutta  cupido. 


PASCAL. OPTT8CT]  LES.  503 

These  powers  have  each  their  principles  and  theii  main- 
springs  of  action. 

Those  of  the  mind  are  truths  which  are  natural  and  known 
to  all  the  world,  as  that  the  whole  is  greater  than  its  part,  be- 
sides several  particular  maxims  that  are  received  by  some  and 
not  by  others,  but  which  as  soon  as  they  are  admitted  are  aa 
powerful,  although  false,  in  carrying  away  belief,  as  those  the 
most  true. 

Those  of  the  will  are  certain  desires  natural  and  common  to 
all  mankind,  as  the  desire  of  being  happy,  which  no  one  can 
avoid  having,  besides  several  particular  objects  which  each  one 
follows  in  order  to  attain,  and  which  having  the  power  to 
please  us  are  as  powerful,  although  pernicious  in  fact,  in  caus- 
ing the  will  to  act,  as  though  they  made  its  veritable  hap- 
piness. 

So  much  for  that  which  regards  the  powers  that  lead  us  to 
consent. 

But  as  for  the  qualities  of  things  which  should  persuade  us, 
they  are  very  different. 

Some  are  drawn,  by  a  necessary  consequence,  from  common 
principles  and  admitted  truths.  These  may  be  infallibly  per- 
suasive ;  for  in  showing  the  harmony  which  they  have  with 
acknowledged  principles  there  is  an  inevitable  necessity  of 
conviction,  and  it  is  impossible  that  they  shall  not  be  received 
into  the  soul  as  soon  as  it  has  been  enabled  to  class  them 
among  the  principles  which  it  has  already  admitted. 

There  are  some  which  have  a  close  connection  with  the  ob- 
jects of  our  satisfaction;  and  these  again  are  received  with 
certainty,  for  as  soon  as  the  soul  has  been  made  to  perceive 
that  a  thing  can  conduct  it  to  that  which  it  loves  supremely, 
it  must  inevitably  embrace  it  with  joy. 

But  those  which  have  this  double  union  both  with  admitted 
truths  and  with  the  desires  of  the  heart,  are  so  sure  of  their 
effect  that  there  is  r  Dthing  that  can  be  more  so  in  nature. 

As,  on  the  contrary,  that  which  does  not  accord  either  with 
>ur  belief  or  with  our  pleasures  is  importunate,  false,  and  ab- 
lolutelv  alien  to  us. 


504  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

In  all  these  positions,  there  is  no  room  for  doubt.  But 
there  are  some  wherein  the  things  which  it  is  sought  to  make 
us  b(  iieve  are  well  established  upon  truths  which  are  known, 
but  which  are  at  the  same  time  contrary  to  the  pleasures 
that  interest  us  most.  And  these  are  in  great  danger  of  show- 
ing, by  an  experience  which  is  only  too  common,  what  I  said 
at  the  beginning — that  this  imperious  soul,  which  boasted  of 
acting  only  by  reason,  follows  by  a  rash  and  shameful  choice 
the  desires  of  a  corrupt  will,  whatever  resistance  may  be  op- 
posed to  it  by  the  too  enlightened  mind. 

Then  it  is  that  a  doubtful  balance  is  made  between  truth  and 
pleasure,  and  that  the  knowledge  of  the  one  and  the  feeling 
of  the  other  stir  up  a  combat  the  success  of  which  is  very  un- 
certain, since,  in  order  to  judge  of  it,  it  would  be  necessary 
to  know  all  that  passes  in  the  innermost  spirit  of  the  man,  of 
which  the  man  himself  is  scarcely  ever  conscious. 

It  appears  from  this,  that  whatever  it  may  be  of  which  we 
wish  to  persuade  men,  it  is  necessary  to  have  regard  to  the 
person  whom  we  wish  to  persuade,  of  whom  we  must  know  the 
mind  and  the  heart,  what  principles  he  acknowledges,  what 
things  he  loves;  and  then  observe  in  the  thing  in  question 
what  affinity  it  has  with  the  acknowledged  principles,  or  with 
the  objects  so  delightful  by  the  pleasure  which  they  give  him. 

So  that  the  art  of  persuasion  consists  as  much  in  that  of 
pleasing  as  in  that  of  convincing,  so  much  more  are  men 
governed  by  caprice  than  by  reason ! 

Now,  of  these  two  methods,  the  one  of  convincing,  the  other 
of  pleasing,  I  shall  only  give  here  the  rules  of  the  first ;  and 
this  in  case  we  have  granted  the  principles,  and  remain  firm 
in  avowing  them :  otherwise  I  do  not  know  whether  there 
could  be  an  art  for  adapting  proofs  to  the  inconstancy  of  our 
caprices. 

But  the  manner  of  pleasing  is  incomparably  more  difficult, 
more  subtle,  more  useful,  and  more  admirable  ;  therefore,  if  1 
do  not  treat  of  it,  it  is  because  I  am  not  capable  of  it ;  and  I 
feel  myself  so  far  disproportionate  to  the  task,  that  I  believt 
the  thing  absolutely  impossible. 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  505 

Not  that  I  do  not  believe  that  there  may  be  as  sure  rule? 
for  pleasing  as  for  demonstrating,  and  that  he  who  knows  per- 
fectly how  to  comprehend  and  to  practise  them  will  as  surely 
succeed  in  making  himself  beloved  by  princes  and  by  people 
of  all  conditions,  as  in  demonstrating  the  elements  of  geometry 
to  those  who  have  enough  imagination  to  comprehend  its 
hypotheses.  But  I  consider,  and  it  is,  perhaps,  my  weakness 
that  makes  me  believe  it,  that  it  is  impossible  to  reach  this. 
At  least  I  know  that  if  any  are  capable  of  it,  they  are  certain 
persons  whom  I  know,  and  that  no  others  have  such  clear  and 
such  abundant  light  on  this  matter. 

The  reason  of  this  extreme  difficulty  comes  from  the  fact 
that  the  principles  of  pleasure  are  not  firm  and  stable.  They 
are  different  in  all  mankind,  and  variable  in  every  particular 
with  such  a  diversity  that  there  is  no  man  more  different  from 
another  than  from  himself  at  different  times.  A  man  haa 
other  pleasures  than  a  woman ;  a  rich  man  and  a  poor  man 
have  different  enjoyments ;  a  prince,  a  warrior,  a  merchant,  a 
citizen,  a  peasant,  the  old,  the  young,  the  well,  the  sick,  all 
vary ;  the  least  accidents  change  them. 

Now  there  is  an  art,  and  it  is  that  which  I  give,  for  showing 
the  connection  of  truths  with  their  principles,  whether  of  truth 
or  of  pleasure,  provided  that  the  principles  which  have  once 
been  avowed  remain  firm,  and  without  being  ever  contra- 
dicted. 

But  as  there  are  few  principles  of  this  kind,  and  as,  apart 
from  geometry,  which  deals  only  with  very  simple  figures, 
there  are  hardly  any  truths  upon  which  we  always  remain 
agreed,  and  still  fewer  objects  of  pleasure  which  we  do  not 
change  every  hour,  I  do  not  know  whether  there  is  a  means  ot 
giving  fixed  rules  for  adapting  discourse  to  the  inconstancy  o 
our  caprices. 

This  art,  which  I  call  the  art  of  persuading,  and  which, 
properly  speaking,  is  simply  the  process  of  perfect  methodical 
proofs,  consists  of  three  essential  parts :  of  defining  the  terma 
of  which  we  should  avail  ourselves  by  clear  definitions ;  of  pro- 
posing principles  or  evident  axioms  to  prove  the  thing  in  ques 

22 


506  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

tion ;  and  of  always  mentally  substituting  in  the  demonstra- 
tions the  definition  in  the  place  of  the  thing  defined. 

The  reason  of  this  method  is  evident,  since  it  would  be  use- 
less to  propose  what  it  is  sought  to  prove,  and  to  undertake 
the  demonstration  of  it,  if  all  the  terms  which  are  not  intelli- 
gible had  not  first  been  clearly  defined ;  and  since  it  is  neces- 
sary in  the  same  manner  that  the  demonstration  should  be 
preceded  by  the  demand  for  the  evident  principles  that  are 
necessary  to  it,  for  if  we  do  not  secure  the  foundation  we  can- 
not secure  the  edifice ;  and  since,  in  fine,  it  is  necessary  in 
demonstrating  mentally,  to  substitute  the  definitions  in  the 
place  of  the  things  defined,  as  otherwise  there  might  be  an 
abuse  of  the  different  meanings  that  are  encountered  in  the 
terms.  It  is  easy  to  see  that,  by  observing  this  method,  we 
are  sure  of  convincing,  since,  the  terms  all  being  understood, 
and  perfectly  exempt  from  ambiguity  by  the  definitions,  and 
the  principles  being  granted,  if  in  the  demonstration  we 
always  mentally  substitute  the  definitions  for  the  things  de- 
fined, the  invincible  force  of  the  conclusions  cannot  fail  of  hav- 
ing its  whole  effect. 

Thus,  never  can  a  demonstration  in  which  these  conditions 
have  been  observed  be  subject  to  the  slightest  doubt;  and 
never  can  those  have  force  in  which  they  are  wanting. 

It  is,  therefore,  of  great  importance  to  comprehend  and  to 
possess  them  ;  and  hence,  to  render  the  thing  easier  and  more 
practicable,  I  shall  give  them  all  in  a  few  rules  which  include 
all  that  is  necessary  for  the  perfection  of  the  definitions,  the 
axioms,  and  the  demonstrations,  and  consequently  of  the  entire 
method  of  the  geometrical  proofs  of  the  art  of  persuading. 

Rules  for  Definitions. 

I.  Not  to  undertake  to  define  any  of  the  things  so  well 
known  of  themselves   that   clearer  terms  cannot  be  had  to 
explain  them. 

II.  Not  to  leave  any  terms  that  are  at  all  obscure  or  arnbig 
oous  without  definition. 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  507 

HI.  Not  to  employ  in  the  definition  of  terms  any  words  but 
such  as  are  perfectly  known  or  already  explained. 

Rules  for  Axioms. 

I.  Not  to   omit   any   necessary   principle   without   asking 
whether  it  is  admitted,  however  clear  and  evident  it  may  be. 

II.  Not  to  demand,  in  axioms,  any  but  things  that  are  per- 
fectly evident  of  themselves. 

Rules  for  Demonstrations. 

I.  Not  to  undertake  to  demonstrate  any  thing  that  is  so 
evident  of  itself  that  nothing  can  be  given  that  is  clearer  to 
prove  it. 

II.  To  prove  all  propositions  at  all  obscure,  and  to  employ 
in  their  proof  only  very  evident  maxims  or  propositions  already 
admitted  or  demonstrated. 

III.  To  always  mentally  substitute  definitions  in  the  place 
of  things  defined,  in  order  not  to  be  misled  by  the  ambiguity 
of  terms  which  have  been  restricted  by  definitions. 

These  eight  rules  contain  ail  the  precepts  for  solid  and  im- 
mutable proofs,  three  of  which  are  not  absolutely  necessary 
and  may  be  neglected  without  error ;  while  it  is  difficult  and 
almost  impossible  to  observe  them  always  exactly,  although  it 
is  more  accurate  to  do  so  as  far  as  possible;  these  are  the 
three  first  of  each  of  the  divisions. 

For  definitions.  Not  to  define  any  terms  that  are  perfectly 
known. 

For  axioms.  Not  to  omit  to  require  any  axioms  perfectly 
evident  and  simple. 

For  demonstrations.  Not  to  demonstrate  any  things  well- 
known"  of  themselves. 

For  it  is  unquestionable  that  it  is  no  great  error  to  define 
and  clearly  explain  things,  although  very  clear  of  themselves, 
nor  to  omit  to  require  in  advance  axioms  which  cannot  be 
refused  in  the  place  where  they  are  necessary ;  nor  lastly  to 
prove  propositions  that  would  be  admitted  without  proof. 

But  the  five  other  rules  are  of  absolute  necessity,  and  can- 


508  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

not  be  dispensed  with  without  essential  defect  and  often  with- 
out error ;  and  for  this  reason  I  shall  recapitulate  them  here 
in  detail. 

Rules  necessary  for  definitions.  Not  to  leave  any  terms  at 
all  obscure  or  ambiguous  without  definition ; 

Not  to  employ  in  definitions  any  but  terms  perfectly  known 
or  already  explained. 

Rule  necessary  for  axioms.  Not  to  demand  in  axioms  any 
but  things  perfectly  evident. 

Rules  necessary  for  demonstrations.  To  prove  all  proposi- 
tions, and  to  employ  nothing  for  their  proof  but  axioms  fully 
evident  of  themsel-ves,  or  propositions  already  demonstrated  or 
admitted ; 

Never  to  take  advantage  of  the  ambiguity  of  terms  by  fail- 
ing mentally  to  substitute  definitions  that  restrict  and  explain 
them. 

These  five  rules  form  all  that  is  necessary  to  render  proofs 
convincing,  immutable,  and  to  say  all,  geometrical ;  and  the 
eight  rules  together  render  them  still  more  perfect. 

I  pass  now  to  that  of  the  order  in  which  the  propositions 
should  be  arranged,  to  be  in  a  complete  geometrical  series. 

After  having  established ' 

This  is  in  what  consists  the  art  of  persuading,  which  is  com- 
prised in  these  two  principles :  to  define  all  the  terms  of  which 
we  make  use;  to  prove  them  all  by  mentally  substituting 
definitions  in  the  place  of  things  defined. 

And  here  it  seems  to  me  proper  to  anticipate  three  princi^ 
pal  objections  which  may  be  made  : 

1st,  that  this  method  has  nothing  new ;  2d,  that  it  is  very 
eas"  to  learn,  it  being  unnecessary  for  this  to  study  the  ele- 
ments of  geometry,  since  it  consists  in  these  two  words  that 
are  known  at  the  first  reading;  and,  3d,  that  it  is  of  little 


•The  rest  of  the  phrase  is  wanting ;  and  all  this  second  part  of  the  com. 
position,  either  because  it  was  not  redacted  by  Pascal,  or  because  it  ha§ 
been  lost,  is  found  neither  in  our  MS.  nor  in  Father  Desmolets. — Faugh* 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  509 

utility,  since  its  use  is  almost  confined  to  geometrical  subjects 
alone. 

It  is  necessary  therefore  to  show  that  there  is  nothing  so 
little  known,  nothing  more  difficult  to  practise,  and  nothing 
more  useful  or  more  universal. 

As  to  the  first  objection,  that  these  rules  are  common  in  the 
world,  that  it  is  necessary  to  define  every  thing  and  to  prove 
every  thing,  and  that  logicians  themselves  have  placed  them 
among  the  principles  of  their  art,  I  would  that  the  thing  were 
true  and  that  it  were  so  well  known  that  I  should  not  have 
the  trouble  of  tracing  with  so  much  care  the  source  of  all  the 
defects  of  reasonings  which  are  truly  so  common.  But  so  little 
is  this  the  case,  that,  geometricians  alone  excepted,  who  are  so 
few  in  number  that  they  are  single  in  a  whole  nation  and  long 
periods  of  time,  we  see  no  others  who  know  it.  It  will  be  easy 
to  make  this  understood  by  those  who  have  perfectly  compre- 
hended the  little  that  I  have  said  ;  but  if  they  have  not  fully 
comprehended  this,  I  confess  that  they  will  learn  nothing 
from  it. 

But  if  they  have  entered  into  the  spirit  of  these  rules,  and  if 
the  rules  have  made  sufficient  impression  on  them  to  become 
rooted  and  established  in  their  minds,  they  will  feel  how  much 
difference  there  is  between  what  is  said  here  and  what  a  few 
logicians  may  perhaps  have  written  by  chance  approximating 
to  it  in  a  few  passages  of  their  works. 

Those  who  have  the  spirit  of  discernment  know  how  much 
difference  there  is  between  two  similar  words,  according  to 
their  position,  and  the  circumstances  that  accompany  them. 
Will  it  be  maintained,  indeed,  that  two  persons  who  have  read 
the  same  book,  and  learned  it  by  heart,  have  a  like  acquaint- 
ance with  it,  if  the  one  comprehends  it  in  such  a  manner  that 
he  knows  all  its  principles,  the  force  of  its  conclusions,  the 
inswers  to  the  objections  that  may  be  made  to  it,  and  the 
whole  economy  of  the  work ;  while  to  the  other  these  are  but 
dead  letters  and  seeds,  which,  although  like  those  which  have 
produced  such  fruitful  trees,  remain  dry  and  unproductive  in 
Ifce  sterile  mind  that  has  received  them  in  vain. 


510  PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES. 

All  who  say  the  same  things  do  not  possess  them  in  the 
same  manner ;  and  hence  the  incomparable  author  of  the  Art 
of  Conversation '  pauses  with  so  much  care  to  make  it  under- 
stood that  we  must  not  judge  of  the  capacity  of  a  man  by  the 
excellence  of  a  happy  remark  that  we  have  heard  him  make ; 
but  instead  of  extending  our  admiration  of  a  good  speech  to 
the  speaker,  let  us  penetrate,  says  he,  the  mind  from  which  it 
proceeds ;  let  us  try  whether  he  owes  it  to  his  memory,  or  to 
a  happy  chance ;  let  us  receive  it  with  coldness  and  contempt, 
in  order  to  see  whether  he  will  feel  that  we  do  not  give  to 
what  he  says  the  esteem  which  its  value  deserves :  it  will 
oftenest  be  seen  that  he  will  be  made  to  disavow  it  on  the 
spot,  and  will  be  drawn  very  far  from  this  better  thought  in 
which  he  does  not  believe,  to  plunge  himself  into  another 
quite  base  and  ridiculous.  We  must,  therefore,  sound  in  what 
manner  this  thought  is  lodged  in  its  author;8  how,  whence, 
to  what  extent  he  possesses  it ;  otherwise,  the  hasty  judgment 
will  be  a  rash  judge. 

I  would  inquire  of  reasonable  persons  whether  this  principle  : 
Matter  is  naturally  wholly  incapable  of  thought,  and  this  other  : 
/  think,  therefore  I  aw,  are  in  fact  the  same  in  the  mind  of 
Descartes,  and  in  that  of  St.  Augustine,  who  said  the  same 
thing  twelve  hundred  years  before.8 

In  truth,  I  am  far  from  affirming  that  Descartes  is  not  the 
real  author  of  it,  even  though  he  may  have  learned  it  only 
in  reading  this  distinguished  saint ;  for  I  know  how  much  dif- 
ference there  is  between  writing  a  word  by  chance  without 
making  a  longer  and  more  extended  reflection  on  it,  and 
perceiving  in  this  word  an  admirable  series  of  conclusions, 
which  prove  the  distinction  between  material  and  spiritual 
natures,  and  making  of  it  a  firm  and  sustained  principle  of  a 
complete  metaphysical  system,  as  Descartes  has  pretended  to 


»  Montaigne,  Etsais,  liv.  Ill,  chap,  viii.— Fauglre. 
a  Montaigne's  expression  is :  "  Feel  oa  all  sides  how  it  if  lodged  in  it* 
author."     Esiais,  same  chapter. — Ibid. 
•  Oiv.  ZW,  1.  XT,  c.  xxvi. 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  511 

io.  For  without  examining  whether  he  has  effectively  suc- 
ceeded in  his  pretension,  I  assume  that  he  has  done  so,  and  it  ia 
on  this  supposition  that  I  say  that  this  expression  is  as  differ- 
ent in  his  writings  from  the  same  saying  in  others  who  have 
said  it  by  chance,  as  is  a  man  full  of  life  and  strength  from  a 
corpse. 

One  man  will  say  a  thing  of  himself  without  comprehending 
its  excellence,  in  which  another  will  discern  a  marvellous  series 
of  conclusions,  which  make  us  affirm  boldly  that  it  is  no  longer 
the  same  expression,  and  that  he  is  no  more  indebted  for  it  to 
the  one  from  whom  he  has  learned  it,  than  a  beautiful  tree 
belongs  to  the  one  who  cast  the  seed,  without  thinking  of  it, 
or  knowing  it,  into  the  fruitful  soil  which  caused  its  growth  by 
its  own  fertility. 

The  same  thoughts  sometimes  put  forth  quite  differently  in 
the  mind  of  another  than  in  that  of  their  author :  unfruitful  in 
their  natural  soil,  abundant  when  transplanted.  But  it  much 
oftener  happens  that  a  good  mind  itself  makes  its  own  thoughts 
produce  all  the  fruit  of  which  they  are  capable,  and  that  after- 
wards others,  having  heard  them  admired,  borrow  them,  and 
adorn  themselves  with  them,  but  without  knowing  their  excel- 
lence ;  and  it  is  then  that  the  difference  of  the  same  word  in 
different  mouths  is  the  most  apparent. 

It  is  in  this  manner  that  logic  has  borrowed,  perhaps,  the 
rules  of  geometry,  without  comprehending  their  force ;  and 
thus,  in  placing  them  by  chance  among  those  hat  belorg  to 
it,  it  does  not  thence  follow  that  they '  have  entered  into  the 
spirit  of  geometry,  and  I  should  be  greatly  averse  if  they  gave 
no  other  evidence  of  it  than  that  of  having  mentioned  it  by 
chance,  to  placing  them  on  a  level  with  that  science  that 
teaches  the  true  method  of  directing  the  reason. 

But  I  should  be,  on  the  contrary,  strongly  disposed  to  ex- 
flude  them  from  it,  and  almost  irrevocably.  For  to  have  said 
it  by  chance,  without  having  taken  care  that  every  thing  waa 
included  within  it,  and  instead  of  following  this  light  to  wan- 

1  Doubtless  the  logicians. — Faagere. 


512  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

der  blindly  in  useless  researches,  pursuing  what  they  promise 
but  never  can  give,  is  truly  showing  that  they  are  not  very 
clear-sighted,  and  much  more  than  if  they  had  failed  to  follow 
the  light,  because  they  had  not  perceived  it. 

The  method  of  not  erring  is  sought  by  all  the  world.  The 
logicians  profess  to  guide  to  it,  the  geometricians  alone  attain 
it,  and  apart  from  their  science,  and  the  imitations  of  it,  there 
are  no  true  demonstrations.  The  whole  art  is  included  in  the 
simple  precepts  that  we  have  given  ;  they  alone  are  sufficient, 
they  alone  afford  proofs ;  all  other  rules  are  useless  or  injuri- 
ous. This  I  know  by  long  experience  of  all  kinds  of  books 
and  persons. 

And  on  this  point  I  pass  the  same  judgment  as  those  who 
say  that  geometricians  give  them  nothing  new  by  these  rules, 
because  they  possessed  them  in  reality,  but  confounded  with  a 
multitude  of  others,  either  useless  or  false,  from  which  they 
could  not  discriminate  them,  as  those  who  seeking  a  diamond 
of  great  price  amidst  a  number  of  false  ones,  but  from  which 
they  know  not  how  to  distinguish  it,  should  boast,  in  holding 
them  all  together,  of  possessing  the  true  one  equally  with  him 
who  without  pausing  at  this  mass  of  rubbish  lays  his  hand 
upon  the  costly  stone  which  they  are  seeking  and  for  which 
they  do  not  throw  away  the  rest. 

The  defect  of  false  reasoning  is  a  malady  which  is  cured  by 
these  two  remedies.  Another  has  been  compounded  of  an  in- 
finity of  useless  herbs  in  which  the  good  are  enveloped  and  in 
which  they  remain  without  effect  through  the  ill  qualities  of 
the  compound. 

To  discover  all  the  sophistries  and  equivocations  of  captious 
vcasonings,  they  have  invented  barbarous  names  that  aston- 
ish those  who  hear  them  ;  and  whilst  we  can  only  unravel  all 
the  tangles  of  this  perplexing  knot  by  drawing  out  one  of  the 
ends  in  the  way  proposed  by  geometricians,  they  have  in- 
dicated a  strange  number  of  others  in  which  the  former  are 
found  included  without  knowing  which  is  the  best. 

And  thus,  in  showing  us  a  number  of  paths  which  they  saj 
conduct  us  whither  we  tend,  although  there  are  but  two  that 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  513 

ead  to  it,  it  is  necessary  to  know  how  to  mark  them  in  par- 
ticular. It  will  be  pretended  that  geometry  which  indicates 
them  with  certainty  gives  only  what  had  already  been  given 
by  others,  because  they  gave  in  fact  the  same  thing  and  more, 
without  heeding  that  this  boon  lost  its  value  by  abundance, 
and  was  diminished  by  adding  to  it. 

Nothing  is  more  common  than  good  things  :  the  point  in 
question  is  only  to  discriminate  them ;  and  it  is  certain  that 
they  are  all  natural  and  within  our  reach  and  even  known 
to  all  mankind.  But  they  know  not  how  to  distinguish  them. 
This  is  universal.  It  is  not  among  extraordinary  and  fantastic 
things  that  excellence  is  to  be  found,  of  whatever  kind  it  may 
be.  We  rise  to  attain  it  and  become  removed  from  it :  it  is 
oftenest  necessary  to  stoop  for  it.  The  best  books  are  those, 
which  those  who  read  them  believe  they  themselves  could 
have  written.  Nature,  which  alone  is  good,  is  wholly  familiar 
and  common. 

I  make  no  doubt  therefore  that  these  rules,  being  the  true 
ones,  are  simple,  artless,  and  natural,  as  in  fact  they  are.  It 
is  not  Barbara  and  Baralipton  that  constitute  reasoning.  The 
mind  must  not  be  forced ;  artificial  and  constrained  manners 
fill  it  with  foolish  presumption,  through  unnatural  elevation 
and  vain  and  ridiculous  inflation,  instead  of  solid  and  vigorous 
nutriment.  And  one  of  the  principal  reasons  that  diverts  those 
who  are  entering  upon  this  knowledge  so  much  from  the  true 
path  which  they  should  follow,  is  the  fancy  that  they  take  at 
the  outset  that  good  things  are  inaccessible,  giving  them  the 
name  of  great,  lofty,  elevated,  sublime.  This  destroys  every 
thing.  I  would  call  them  low,  common,  familiar :  these  names 
luit  them  better ;  I  hate  such  inflated  expressions. 

22° 


514  PASCAL. — OPUSCULES. 


MIN  is  born  for  thought;  therefore  he  is  not  a  moment 
without  it ;  but  the  pure  thoughts  that  would  render  him 

1  This  carious  fragment  was  discovered  by  M.  Cousin  in  the  Biblio- 
theque  Imperials  in  1843:  it  is  extracted  from  a  MS.  of  the  Fond*  de 
Saint- Germavn-Gesvres,  No.  74.  The  MS.  filed  under  this  number  is  in- 
dorsed :  Nicole,  De  la  Grace,  autre  piece  manuscrite.  "  On  the  first  page," 
says  M.  Cousin,  "  is  the  index  of  the  writings  contained  in  this  quarto : 
1°.  Systeme  de  M.  Nicole  sur  la  Grace;  2°.  Si  la  dispute  sur  la  Grace 
universelle  n'est  qu'une  dispute  de  nom ;  3°.  Discours  sur  les  Passions  de 
F Amour,  by  M.  Pascal.  This  discourse  is  unfinished,  and  like  the  MS.  of 
the  abbey  of  SaintrGermain,  is  only  a  copy  and  not  an  autograph ;  there 
are  two  or  three  sentences  which  are  probably  wrongly  copied,  and  are 
defective.  It  is  also  probable  that  this  writing  was  not,  designed  for  the 
public,  and  that  the  author  had  not  put  the  finishing  touch  to  it ;  but 
everywhere  in  it  we  recognize  the  hand  of  Pascal,  the  geometrical  spirit  that 
never  abandons  him,  the  favorite  expressions,  the  characteristic  words,  the 
true  distinction  between  reasoning  and  feeling,  and  a  thousand  other 
things  of  like  nature  which  are  encountered  at  every  step  in  the  Thoughts." 

M.  Cousin  asks,  to  what  epoch  of  the  life  of  Pascal  should  be  attributed 
tne  composition  of  the  Discourse  on  the  Passion  of  Love,  and  thinks  that 
it  is  to  the  period  extending  from  1652  to  the  end  of  1654,  a  wholly  worldly 
epoch,  into  which  "  Pascal  must  have  carried  his  character,  his  curiosity, 
his  ardor,  the  insatiable  need  of  reaching  in  every  thing  its  ultimate  lim- 
its."— "  This  discourse,"  says  M.  Cousin,  again,  "  betrays  a  mystery  in  the 
private  life  of  Pascal,  which  perhaps  will  never  be  cleared  up.  ...  It  is  very 
possible  that  in  the  select  society  where  he  must  have  been  admitted  and 
Bought  after,  he  may  have  met  a  person  of  more  exalted  rank  than  his  own 
for  whom  he  felt  a  lively  attraction  which  he  concealed  in  his  heart,  ex- 
pressing it  scarcely  to  himself  in  this  veiled  and  enigmatical  discourse." 

M.  Cousin  does  not  indicate  who  this  person  of  an  exalted  rank  who  in- 
epijod  Pascal  could  have  been ;  but  M.  Faugere  thinks  that  it  was  Made- 
moiselle de  Eoannez.  (See  in  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  Sept.  15,  1 843 
the  article  entitled :  Un  fragment  vnedit  de  Pascal. — Faugere,  Des  Pensttt 
de  Pascal,  introduction,  Ixv.) 

The  Abb6  de  Maynard,  on  his  side,  while  recognizing  the  great  literarj 
merit  of  this  fragment,  does  not  think  that  it  can  with  full  certainty  be  at 
tribnted  to  Pascal,  and  M.  Saint-Beuve  says  that,  without  doing  injustice 
/)  the  pages  sur  Vamour,  it  is  clear  that  Pascal  never  set  his  heart  on  any 
treated  being,  and  that  he  loved  no  one  with  passion  but  his  Saviour. 

Opinions,  it  is  evident,  are  strangely  divided.  In  the  character  of  ar 
impartial  editor,  we  give  them  all  here.  We  follow  the  text  of  M.  Faugere 
adopting  liis  corrections. 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCC  LE8.  515 

happy,  if  he  could  always  maintain  them,  wear/  and  oppress 
him.  They  make  a  uniform  life  to  which  he  cannot  adapt 
himself;  he  must  have  excitement  and  action,  that  is,  it  ia 
necessary  that  he  should  sometimes  be  agitated  by  those  pas- 
sions the  deep  and  vivid  sources  of  which  he  feels  within  his 
heart. 

The  passions  which  are  the  best  suited  to  man  and  include 
many  others,  are  love  and  ambition  :  they  have  little  connec- 
tion with  each  other ;  nevertheless  they  are  often  allied ;  but 
they  mutually  weaken,  not  to  say  destroy,  each  other. 

Whatever  compass  of  mind  one  may  have,  he  is  capable  of 
only  one  great  passion ;  hence,  when  love  and  ambition  are 
found  together,  they  are  only  half  as  great  as  they  would  be 
if  only  one  of  them  existed.  The  time  of  life  determines  nei- 
ther the  beginning  nor  the  end  of  these  two  passions ;  they 
spring  up  in  the  earliest  years  and  subsist  very  often  unto  the 
tomb.  Nevertheless,  as  they  require  much  warmth,  young 
persons  are  best  fitted  for  them,  and  it  seems  that  they  abate 
with  years  :  this  however  is  very  rare. 

The  life  of  man  is  miserably  brief.  It  is  usually  computed 
from  his  first  entrance  into  the  world ;  for  my  part,  I  would 
only  compute  it  from  the  birth  of  reason  and  from  the  time 
that  man  begins  to  be  influenced  by  it,  which  does  not  ordi- 
narily happen  before  twenty  years  of  age.  Before  this  time, 
we  are  children,  and  a  child  is  not  a  man. 

How  happy  is  a  life  that  begins  with  love  and  ends  with 
ambition !  If  I  had  to  choose,  this  is  the  one  I  should  take. 
So  long  as  we  have  ardor  we  are  amiable ;  but  this  ardor  dies 
out,  is  lost ;  then  what  a  fine  and  noble  place  is  left  for  ambi- 
tion !  A  tumultuous  life  is  pleasing  to  great  minds,  but  those 
irho  are  mediocre  have  no  pleasure  in  it ;  they  are  machines 
everywhere.  Hence  when  love  and  ambition  begin  and  end 
life,  we  are  in  the  happiest  condition  of  which  human  nature  is 
capable. 

The  more  mind  we  have  the  greater  the  passions  are,  since 
the  passions  being  only  sentiments  and  thoughts  that  belong 
purely  to  the  mind  although  they  are  occasioned  by  the  body, 


516  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

it  is  obvious  that  they  are  no  longer  any  thing  but  the  mind 
itself,  and  that  thus  they  fill  up  its  entire  capacity.  I  speak 
here  only  of  the  ardent  passions,  for  the  others  are  often  min- 
gled together  and  cause  a  very  annoying  confusion  ;  but  this 
is  never  the  case  in  those  who  have  mind. 

In  a  great  soul  every  thing  is  great. 

It  is  asked  whether  it  is  necessary  to  love  ?  This  should 
not  be  asked,  it  should  be  felt.  We  do  not  deliberate  upon  it, 
we  are  forced  to  it,  and  take  pleasure  in  deceiving  ourselves 
when  we  discuss  it. 

Definiteness  of  mind  causes  definiteness  of  passion  ;  this  is 
why  a  great  and  definite  mind  loves  with  ardor,  and  sees  dis- 
tinctly what  it  loves. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  mind  :  the  one  geometrical,  and  the 
other  what  may  be  called  the  imaginative  (de  finesse). 

The  former  is  slow,  rigid,  and  inflexible  in  its  views,  but  the 
latter  has  a  suppleness  of  thought  which  fastens  at  once  upon 
the  various  pleasing  qualities  of  what  it  loves.  From  the  eyea 
it  goes  to  the  heart  itself,  and  from  the  expression  without  it 
knows  what  is  passing  within. 

When  we  have  both  kinds  of  mind  combined,  how  much 
pleasure  is  given  by  love  !  For  we  possess  at  the  same  time 
the  strength  and  the  flexibility  of  mind  essentially  necessary 
for  the  eloquence  of  two  persons. 

We  are  born  with  a  disposition  to  love  in  our  hearts,  which 
is  developed  in  proportion  as  the  mind  is  perfected,  and  impels 
us  to  love  what  appears  to  us  beautiful  without  ever  having 
been  told  what  this  is.  Who  can  doubt  after  this  whether  we 
are  in  the  world  for  any  thing  else  than  to  love  ?  In  fact,  we 
conceal  in  vain,  we  always  love.  In  the  very  things  from 
which  love  seems  to  have  been  separated,  it  is  found  secretly 
and  under  seal,  and  man  could  not  live  a  moment  without 
this. 

Man  does  not  like  to  dwell  with  himself;  nevertheless  he 
loves;  it  is  necessary  then  that  he  seek  elsewhere  something 
to  love.  lie  can  find  it  only  in  beauty ;  but  as  he  is  himself 
the  most  beautiful  creature  that  God  has  ever  formed,  hs  must 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  517 

Bud  in  himself  the  model  of  this  beauty  which  he  seeks  without. 
Every  one  can  perceive  in  himself  the  first  glimmerings  of  it ; 
and  according  as  we  observe  that  what  is  without  agrees  or 
disagrees  with  these,  we  form  our  ideas  of  beauty  or  deformity 
in  all  things.  Nevertheless,  although  man  seeks  wherewith  to 
fill  up  the  great  void  he  makes  in  going  out  of  himself,  he  can- 
tot  however  be  satisfied  with  every  land  of  object.  His  heart 
b  too  large ;  it  is  necessary  at  least  that  it  should  be  some- 
thing that  resembles  him  and  approaches  him  as  near  as  may 
be.  Hence  the  beauty  that  can  satisfy  man  consists  not  only 
iii  fitness,  but  also  in  resemblance  ;  it  is  restricted  and  confined 
to  the  difference  of  sex. 

Nature  has  so  well  impressed  this  truth  on  our  souls,  that 
we  find  a  predisposition  to  all  this ;  neither  art  nor  study  is 
required ;  it  even  seems  that  we  have  a  place  to  fill  in  our 
hearts  which  is  thus  filled  effectively.  But  we  feel  this  better 
than  we  can  express  it.  It  is  only  those  who  know  how  to 
confuse  and  contemn  their  ideas  who  do  not  see  it. 

Although  this  general  idea  of  beauty  may  be  engraven  in 
the  innermost  part  of  our  souls  with  ineffaceable  characters,  it 
does  not  prevent  us  from  being  susceptible  of  great  differences 
in  its  individual  application  ;  but  this  is  only  in  the  manner  of 
regarding  what  pleases  us.  For  we  do  not  wish  for  beauty  alone, 
but  desire  in  connection  with  it  a  thousand  circumstances  that 
depend  on  the  disposition  in  which  it  is  found,  and  it  is  in  this 
sense  that  it  may  be  said  that  each  one  possesses  the  original 
of  his  beauty,  the  copy  of  which  he  is  seeking  externally. 
Nevertheless,  women  often  determine  this  original.  As  they 
have  an  absolute  empire  over  the  minds  of  men,  they  paint  ou 
them  either  the  qualities  of  the  beauties  which  they  possess  or 
those  which  they  esteem,  and  by  this  means  add  what  pleases 
them  to  this  radical  beauty.  Hence  there  is  one  epoch  for 
blondes,  another  for  brunettes,  and  the  division  there  is  among 
women  in  respect  to  esteem  for  the  one  or  the  other  makes  at 
it  the  same  time  the  difference  among  men  in  this  regard. 

Fashion  even  and  country  often  regulate  what  is  called 
beauty.  It  is  a  strange  thing  that  -ustom  should  mingle  so 


618  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

strongly  with,  our  passions.  This  does  not  hinder  each  one 
from  having  his  idea  of  beauty  by  which  he  judges  others  and 
with  which  he  compares  them ;  it  is  on  this  principle  that  a 
lover  finds  his  mistress  the  most  beautiful  and  proposes  her  as 
a  model. 

Beauty  is  divided  in  a  thousand  different  ways.  The  most 
proper  object  to  sustain  it  is  a  woman.  When  she  has  intel- 
lect, she  enlivens  it  and  sets  it  off  marvellously.  If  a  woman 
wishes  to  please,  and  possess  the  advantages  of  beauty  or  a 
portion  of  them  at  least,  she  will  succeed ;  and  even  though 
men  take  ever  so  little  heed  of  it,  although  she  does  not  strive 
for  it,  she  will  make  herself  loved.  There  is  an  accessible 
point  in  their  hearts ;  she  will  take  up  her  abode  there. 

Man  is  born  for  pleasure ;  he  feels  it ;  no  other  proof  of  it 
is  needed.  He  therefore  follows  his  reason  in  giving  himself 
to  pleasure.  But  very  often  he  feels  passion  in  his  heart  with- 
out knowing  in  what  it  originated. 

A  true  or  false  pleasure  can  equally  fill  the  mind.  For  what 
matters  it  that  this  pleasure  is  false,  if  we  are  persuaded  that 
it  is  true  ? 

By  force  of  sneaking  of  love  we  become  enamored.  There 
is  nothing  so  easy.  It  is  the  passion  most  natural  to  man. 

Love  has  no  age ;  it  is  always  young.  So  the  poets  teii  us ; 
it  is  for  this  that  they  represent  it  to  us  under  the  figure  of  a 
child.  But  without  asking  any  thing  of  it,  we  feel  it. 

Love  gives  intellect  and  is  sustained  by  intellect.  Address 
is  needed  in  order  to  love.  We  daily  exhaust  the  methods  ot 
pleasing;  nevertheless  it  is  necessary  to  please  and  we  please. 

We  have  a  fountain  of  self-love  which  represents  us  to  our- 
selves as  being  able  to  fill  several  places  outside  of  ourselves; 
this  is  what  makes  us  happy  to  be  loved.  As  we  desire  it 
with  ardor,  we  quickly  remark  it  and  perceive  it  in  the  eyes 
of  the  person  who  loves.  For  the  eyes  are  the  interpreters 
of  the  heart;  but  he  alone  who  is  interested  in  them  can 
understand  their  language. 

Man  by  himself  is  something  imperfect;  he  must  find  a 
second  in  order  to  be  happy.  He  oftenest  seeks  it  in  equality 


PASCAL. OPUSCC  LE8 .  519 

of  condition,  because  in  that  the  liberty  and  the  opportunity  of 
manifesting  his  wishes  are  most  easily  found.  Yet  he  some- 
L.rtiss  rises  above  this,  and  feels  the  kindling  flame  although 
he  dares  not  tell  it  to  the  one  who  has  caused  it. 

When  we  love  a  woman  of  unequal  condition,  ambition  may 
accompany  the  beginning  of  the  love ;  but  in  a  little  time  the 
latter  becomes  master.  It  is  a  tyrant  that  will  suffer  no  com- 
panion ;  it  wishes  to  be  alone ;  all  the  other  passions  must 
betid  to  it  and  obey  it. 

An  elevated  attachment  fills  the  heart  of  man  much  hotter 
than  a  common  and  equal  one ;  and  little  things  float  in  his 
capacity ;  none  but  great  ones  lodge  and  dwell  therein. 

We  often  write  things  which  we  only  prove  by  obliging 
every  one  to  reflect  upon  himself,  and  find  the  truth  of  which 
we  are  speaking.  In  this  consists  the  force  of  the  proofs  of 
what  I  assert. 

When  a  man  is  fastidious  in  any  quality  of  his  mind,  he  is 
BO  in  love.  For  as  he  must  be  moved  by  every  object  that  is 
outside  of  himself,  if  there  is  any  thing  that  is  repugnant  to 
his  ideas,  he  perceives  and  shuns  it ;  the  rule  of  this  fastid- 
iousness depends  on  a  pure,  noble,  and  sublime  reason.  Thus 
we  can  believe  ourselves  fastidious  without  actually  being  so, 
and  others  have  the  right  to  condemn  us ;  whilst  for  beauty 
each  one  has  his  rule,  sovereign  and  independent  of  that  of 
others.  Yet  between  being  fastidious  and  not  being  so  at 
all,  it  must  be  granted  that  when  one  desires  to  be  fastidious 
he  is  not  far  from  actually  being  so.  Women  like  to  per- 
ceive fastidiousness  in  men,  and  this  is,  it  seems  to  me,  the 
most  vulnerable  point  whereby  to  gain  them  :  we  are  pleased 
to  see  that  a  thousand  others  are  contemned  and  that  we  alone 
are  esteemed. 

Qualities  of  mind  are  not  acquired  by  habit ;  they  are  only 
perfected.  Whence  it  is  easy  to  see  that  fastidiousness  is  a 
gift  of  nature  and  not  an  acquisition  of  art. 

In  proportion  as  we  have  more  intellect,  we  find  more 
original  beauties ;  but  this  is  not  rece^sary  ia  order  to  be  ia 
love ;  for  when  we  love,  we  find  but  one. 


520  P  A.8CAL. OPUSCULES. 

Does  it  not  seem  that  as  often  as  a  woman  goes  out  of  her 
self  to  impress  the  hearts  of  others,  she  makes  a  place  void  for 
others  in  her  own  ?  Yet,  I  know  some  who  affirm  that  this  is 
not  true.  Dare  we  call  this  injustice  ?  It  is  natural  to  give 
back  as  much  as  we  have  taken. 

Attachment  to  the  same  thought  wearies  and  destroys  the 
mind  of  man.  Honce  for  the  solidity  and  permanence  of  the 
pleasure  of  love,  it  is  sometimes  necessary  not  to  know  that 
we  love ;  and  this  is  not  to  be  guilty  of  an  infidelity,  for  we  do 
not  therefore  love  another ;  it  is  to  regain  strength  in  order  to 
love  the  better.  This  happens  without  our  thinking  of  it ;  the 
mind  is  borne  hither  of  itself;  nature  wills  it>  commands  it. 
It  must  however  be  confessed  that  this  is  a  miserable  conse- 
quence of  human  weakness,  and  that  we  should  be  happier  .f  we 
were  not  forced  to  change  of  thought ;  but  there  is  no  remedy. 

The  pleasure  of  loving  without  daring  to  tell  it,  has  its  pains, 
but  it  has  its  joys  also.  What  transport  do  we  not  feel  in 
moulding  all  our  actions  in  view  of  pleasing  the  person  whom 
we  infinitely  esteem  I  We  study  each  day  to  find  the  means 
of  revealing  ourselves,  and  thus  employ  as  much  time  as  if  we 
were  holding  converse  with  the  one  whom  we  love.  The  eyes 
kindle  and  grow  dim  at  the  same  moment,  and  although  we 
do  not  see  plainly  that  the  one  who  causes  this  disorder  takes 
heed  of  it,  we  still  have  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  all  these 
emotions  for  a  person  who  deserves  them  so  well.  We  would 
gladly  have  a  hundred  tongues  to  make  it  known  ;  for  as  we 
cannot  make  use  of  words,  we  are  obliged  to  confine  ourselves 
to  the  eloquence  of  action. 

Up  to  this  point  we  have  constant  delight  and  sufficient 
occupation.  Thus  we  are  happy  ;  for  the  secret  of  keeping  a 
passion  constantly  alive  is  to  suffer  no  void  to  spring  up  in  the 
mind,  by  obliging  it  to  apply  itself  without  ceasing  to  what 
moves  i"t  so  agreeably.  But  when  it  is  in  the  state  that  1 
have  just  described,  it  cannot  last  long,  because  being  sole 
»ct or  in  a  passion  in  which  there  must  necessarily  be  two,  it  is 
difficult  to  hinder  it  from  soon  exhausting  all  the  emotions  bj 
ir}  uh  it  is  agitated. 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  521 

Although  the  passion  may  be  the  same,  novelty  is  needed ; 
the  mind  takes  delight  in  it,  and  he  who  knows  how  to  pro- 
cure it,  knows  how  to  make  himself  loved. 

After  having  gone  thus  far,  this  plenitude  sometimes  dimin- 
shes,  and  receiving  no  assistance  from  the  side  of  its  source, 
we  decline  miserably,  and  hostile  passions  take  possession  of  a 
heart  which  they  rend  into  a  thousand  pieces.  Yet  a  ray  of 
hope,  however  faint  it  may  be,  exalts  us  as  high  as  we  were 
before.  This  is  sometimes  a  play  in  which  women  delight ; 
but  sometimes  in  feigning  to  have  compassion,  they  have  it  in 
reality.  How  happy  we  are  when  this  is  the  case ! 

A  firm  and  solid  love  always  begins  with  the  eloquence  of 
action  ;  the  eyes  have  the  best  share  in  it.  Nevertheless  it  is 
necessary  to  conjecture,  but  to  conjecture  rightly. 

When  two  persons  are  of  the  same  sentiments,  they  do  not 
conjecture,  or  at  least  one  conjectures  what  the  other  means 
to  say  without  the  other  understanding  it  or  daring  to  under- 
stand. 

When  we  love,  we  appear  to  ourselves  quite  different  from 
what  we  were  before.  Thus  we  imagine  that  every  one  per- 
ceives it ;  yet  nothing  is  more  false.  But  because  the  percep- 
tion of  reason  is  bounded  by  passion,  we  cannot  assure  our- 
selves and  are  always  suspicious. 

When  we  love,  we  are  persuaded  that  we  shall  discover  the 
passion  of  another  :  thus  we  are  afraid. 

The  longer  the  way  is  in  love,  the  greater  is  the  pleasure 
that  a  sensitive  mind  feels  in  it. 

There  are  certain  minds  to  which  hopes  must  long  be  given, 
and  these  are  minds  of  refinement.  There  are  others  which 
cannot  long  resist  difficulties,  and  these  are  the  grossest.  The 
former  love  longer  and  with  more  enjoyment ;  the  latter  lovo 
quicker,  with  more  freedom,  an^  sooner  end. 

The  first  effect  of  love  is  to  inspire  a  profound  respect ;  we 
have  veneration  for  what  we  love.  It  is  very  just ;  we  see 
nothing  in  the  world  so  great  as  tb:s. 

Authors  cannot  tell  us  much  of  the  love  of  their  heroes;  it 
IB  necessary  that  they  should  have  been  the  heroes  themselves. 


322  PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES. 

Waudering  in  love  is  as  monstrous  as  injustice  in  the  mu.ot 

In  love,  silence  is  of  more  avail  than  speech.  It  is  good  to 
be  abashed ;  there  is  an  eloquence  in  silence  that  penetrates 
more  deeply  than  language  can.  How  well  a  lover  persuades 
his  mistress  when  he  is  abashed  before  her,  who  elsewhere 
has  so  much  presence  of  mind !  Whatever  vivacity  we  may 
have,  it  is  well  that  in  certain  junctures  it  should  be  extin- 
guished. All  this  takes  place  without  rule  or  reflection,  and 
when  the  mind  acts,  it  is  without  thinking  of  it  beforehand. 
This  happens  through  necessity. 

We  often  adore  one  that  is  unconscious  of  it,  and  do  not 
fail  to  preserve  an  inviolable- fidelity,  although  its  object  knows 
nothing  of  it.  But  this  love  must  be  very  refined  or  very  pure. 

We  know  the  minds  of  men,  and  consequently  their  passions, 
by  the  comparison  that  we  make  between  ourselves  and  others. 

I  am  of  the  opinion  of  him  who  said  that  in  love  one  forgets 
his  fortune,  his  relatives,  and  his  friends ;  the  most  elevated 
attachments  go  as  far  as  this.  What  causes  us  to  go  so  far 
in  love  is  that  we  do  not  think  we  have  need  of  any  thing  else 
than  the  object  of  our  love :  the  mind  is  full ;  there  is  no 
longer  any  room  for  care  or  solicitude.  Passion  cannot  exist 
without  excess ;  thence  it  comes  that  we  care  no  longer  for 
what  the  world  says,  as  we  know  already  that  our  conduct 
ought  not  to  be  condemned,  since  it  comes  from  reason.  There 
is  fulness  of  passion,  and  can  be  no  beginning  of  reflection. 

It  is  not  an  effect  of  custom,  it  is  an  obligation  of  nature, 
that  men  make  the  advances  to  gain  the  attachment  of  women. 

This  forgetfulness  that  is  caused  by  love,  and  this  attachment 
to  the  object  of  our  love,  make  qualities  spring  up  that  we  had 
not  before.  We  become  magnificent,  without  ever  having 
been  so. 

The  miser  himself  who  loves  becomes  liberal,  and  does  not 
ruinember  ever  to  have  had  a  contrary  disposition  ;  t  we  see  the 
reason  of  this  in  considering  that  there  are  some  passions  which 
Dontract  the  soul  and  render  it  stagnant,  and  that  there  are 
others  which  expand  it  and  cause  it  to  overflow. 

We  have  unaptly  taken  away  the  name  of  reason  from  IOVQ 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  523 

and  have  opposed  them  to  each  other  without  good  founda 
tion,  for  love  and  reasoa  are  but  the  same  thing.  It  is  a  pre- 
cipitation of  thought  which  is  impelled  to  a  side  before  fully 
examining  every  thing,  but  it  is  still  a  reason,  and  we  should 
act  and  cannot  wish  that  it  were  otherwise,  for  we  would  then 
be  very  disagreeable  machines.  Let  us  not  therefore  exclude 
reason  from  love,  since  they  are  inseparable.  The  poets  were 
not  right  in  painting  Love  blind  ;  we  must  take  off  his  bandage 
and  restore  to  him  henceforth  the  enjoyment  of  his  eyes. 

Souls  fitted  for  love  demand  a  life  of  action  which  becomes 
brilliant  in  new  events.  The  external  excitement  must  corre- 
spond with  the  internal,  and  this  manner  of  living  is  a  mar- 
vellous road  to  passion.  Thence  it  is  that  courtiers  are  more 
successful  in  love  than  citizens,  since  the  former  are  all  fire  and 
the  latter  lead  a  life  in  the  uniformity  of  which  there  is  noth- 
ing striking :  a  tempestuous  life  surprises,  strikes,  and  pene- 
trates. 

It  seems  as  though  we  had  quite  another  soul  when  we  love 
than  when  we  do  not  love ;  we  are  exalted  by  this  passiou  and 
become  all  greatness ;  the  rest  therefore  must  have  proportion, 
otherwise  this  does  not  harmonize  and  is  consequently  dis- 
agreeable. 

The  pleasing  and  the  beautiful  are  only  the  same  thing ; 
every  one  has  his  idea  of  it.  It  is  of  a  moral  beauty  that  I 
mean  to  speak,  which  consists  in  external  words  and  actions. 
We  have  a  rule  indeed  for  becoming  agreeable ;  yet  the  dis- 
position of  the  body  is  necessary  to  it,  but  this  cannot  be 
acquired. 

Men  have  taken  pleasure  in  forming  for  themselves  so  ele- 
vated a  standard  of  the  pleasing  that  no  one  can  attain  it.  Let 
us  judge  of  it  better,  and  say  that  this  is  simply  nature  with 
surprising  facility  and  vivacity  of  mind.  In  love  these  two 
qualities  are  necessary.  There  must  be  nothing  of  force,  and 
yet  there  must  be  nothing  of  slowness  :  habit  gives  the  rest. 

Respect  and  love  should  be  so  well  proportioned  as  to  sus- 
tain each  other  without  love  being  stifled  by  respect. 

Great  souls  are  not  those  that  love   oftenest;  it  is  a  vio- 


524:  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

lent  love  of  which  I  speak ;  an  inundation  of  passion  is  needed 
to  move  them  and  fill  them.  But  when  they  begin  to  love, 
they  love  much  more  strongly. 

It  is  said  that  there  are  some  nations  more  amorous  than 
others ;  this  is  not  speaking  rightly,  or  at  least  it  is  not  true 
in  every  sense. 

Love  consisting  only  in  an  attachment  of  thought,  it  is  cer- 
tain that  it  must  be  the  same  over  all  the  earth.  It  is  true 
that,  considering  it  otherwise  than  in  the  thought,  the  climate 
may  add  something,  but  this  is  only  in  the  body. 

It  is  with  love  as  with  good  sense ;  as  one  man  believes 
himself  to  have  as  much  mind  as  another,  he  also  believes 
that  he  loves  the  same.  Yet,  they  who  have  the  most  percep- 
tion, love  even  to  the  most  trifling  things,  which  is  not  possible 
for  others.  It  is  necessary  to  be  very  subtle  to  remark  this 
difference. 

One  cannot  feign  to  love  unless  he  is  very  near  being  a  lover, 
or  at  least  unless  he  loves  in  some  direction ;  for  the  mind  and 
the  thoughts  of  love  are  requisite  for  this  seeming,  and  how 
shall  we  find  means  of  speaking  well  without  this  ?  The  truth 
of  passion  is  not  so  easily  disguised  as  serious  truth. 

We  must  have  ardor,  activity,  and  prompt  and  natural 
warmth  of  mind  for  the  former ;  the  latter  we  conceal  by 
slowness  and  pliancy,  which  it  is  easier  to  do. 

When  we  are  at  a  distance  from  the  object  of  our  love,  we 
resolve  to  do  or  to  say  many  things ;  but  when  we  are  near, 
we  are  irresolute.  Whence  comes  this  ?  It  is  because  when 
we  are  at  a  distance  reason  is  not  so  much  perturbed,  but  is 
strangely  so  in  the  presence  of  the  object :  now  for  resolution, 
firmness  is  needed,  which  is  destroyed  by  perturbation. 

In  love  we  dare  not  hazard,  because  we  fear  to  lose  every 
fching ;  it  is  necessary,  however,  to  advance,  but  who  can  say 
how  far  ?  We  tremble  constantly  until  we  have  found  this 
boint.  Prudence  does  nothing  towards  maintaining  it  when 
it  is  found. 

There  is  nothing  so  embarrassing  as  to  be  a  lover,  and  to 
&ee  something  in  our  favor  without  daring  to  believe  it ;  we 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  52ft 

are  alike  opposed  by  hope  and  fear.  But  finally  the  latter 
becomes  victorious  over  the  other. 

When  we  love  ardently,  it  is  always  a  novelty  to.  see  the 
person  beloved.  After  a  moment's  absence,  he  finds  a  void  in 
Y  is  heart.  What  happiness  is  it  to  find  her  again  !  he  feels  at 
once  a  cessation  of  anxiety. 

It  is  necessary,  however,  that  this  love  should  be  already  far 
advanced ;  for  when  it  is  budding,  and  has  made  no  progress, 
we  feel  indeed  a  cessation  of  anxiety,  but  others  supervene. 

Although  troubles  thus  succeed  each  other,  one  is  not  hin- 
dered from  desiring  the  presence  of  his  mistress  by  the  hope 
of  suffering  less ;  yet,  when  he  sees  her,  he  fancies  that  he 
suffers  more  than  before.  Past  troubles  no  longer  move  him, 
the  present  touch  him,  and  it  is  of  those  that  touch  him  that 
he  judges. 

Ls  not  a  lover  in  this  state  worthy  of  compassion  ? 


OF  THE  GEOMETRICAL  SPIRIT.1 

WE  may  have  three  principal  objects  in  the  study  of  truth : 
one  to  discover  it  when  it  is  sought ;  another  to  demonstrate 
it  when  it  is  possessed  ;  and  a  third,  to  discriminate  it  from  the 
false  when  it  is  examined. 

I  do  not  speak  of  the  first ;  I  treat  particularly  of  the  sec- 
ond, and  it  includes  the  third.  For,  if  we  know  the  method 
of  proving  the  truth,  we  shall  have,  at  the  same  time,  that  of 
discriminating  it,  since,  in  examining  whether  the  proof  that  is 
given  of  it  is  in  conformity  with  the  rules  that  are  understood, 
we  shall  know  whether  it  is  exactly  demonstrated. 

1  A  -short  fragment  of  this  writing  was  published  in  1728  by  Desmilets: 
Condorcet  gave  it  in  a  more  complete  manner,  but  also  with  numerous 
suppressions,  under  the  title :  De  la  maniere  de  prouver  la  write  et  de  Vex- 
poser  aux  )tomm«« :  lastly,  Bossut  reprinted  it  in  1779,  entitling  it :  Reflesicmt 
t«r  la  Ge(rm*trie  en.  general;  but  it  is  known  by  the  first  discourse  of  the 
Lrxjique  de  Port-Royal,  that  Pascal  gave  it  the  title  under  which  we  reprint 
't.  We  follow  the  text  of  M.  Faugera  who  has  reproduced  the  only  MS. 
ropy  that  has  been  preserved. 


526  PASCAL OPUSCULES. 

Geometiy,  which  excels  in  these  three  methods,  has  crplained 
the  art  of  discovering  unknown  truths ;  this  it  is  which  is  called 
analysis,-a.nd  of  which  it  would  be  useless  to  discourse  after  the 
many  excellent  works  that  have  been  written  on  it. 

That  of  demonstrating  truths  already  found,  and  of  elucidat- 
ing them  in  such  a  manner  that  the  proof  of  them  shall  be 
irresistible,  is  the  only-one  that  I  wish  to  give ;  and  for  this  I 
have  only  to  explain  the  method  which  geometry  observes  in 
it ;  for  she  teaches  it  perfectly  by  her  examples,  although  she 
may  produce  no  discourse  on  it.  And  since  this  art  consists 
in  two  principal  things,  the  one  in  proving  each  proposition 
by  itself,  the  other  in  disposing  all  the  propositions  in  the  best 
order,  I  shall  make  of  it  two  sections,  of  which  the  one  will 
contain  the  rules  for  'he  conduct  of  geometrical,  that  is,  me- 
thodical and  perfect  demonstrations ;  and  the  second  will  com- 
prehend that  of  geometrical,  that  is,  methodical  and  complete 
order :  so  that  the  two  together  will  include  all  that  will  be 
necessary  to  direct  reasoning,  in  proving  and  discriminating 
truths,  which  I  design  to  give  entire. 

SECTION  FIRST. — Of  the  method  of  geometrical,  that  is,  of  methodical 
and  perfect  demonstrations. 

I  cannot  better  explain  the  method  that  should  be  preserved 
to  render  demonstrations  convincing,  than  by  explaining  that 
which  is  observed  by  geometry. 

But  it  is  first  necessary  that  I  should  give  the  idea  of  a 
method  still  more  eminent  and  more  complete,  but  which 
mankind  could  never  attain ;  for  what  exceeds  geometry  sur- 
passes us;  and,  nevertheless,  something  must  be  said  of  it, 
Although  it  is  impossible  to  practise  it.1 

1  After  this  paragraph  occur  in  the  MS.  the  following  lines,  written  in  a 
finer  hand,  and  inclosed  in  parenthesis  : 

"...  is  much  more  to  succeed  in  the  one  than  the  other,  and  I  have 
chosen  this  science  to  attain  it  only  because  it  alone  knows  the  true  rules 
af  reasoning,  and,  without  stopping  at  the  rales  of  syllogisms  which  are  sc 
natural  that  we  cannot  be  ignorant  of  them,  stops  and  establishes  itsel 
upon  the  true  method  of  conducting  reasoning  in  all  things,  which  almosf 
•very  one  is  ignorant  of,  and  which  it  is  so  advantageous  to  know,  tba 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  527 

This  true  method,  which  -would  form  demonstrations  in  the 
highest  excellence,  if  it  were  possible  to  arrive  at  it,  would 
consist  in  two  principal  things  :  the  one,  in  employing  no  term 
the  meaning  of  which  had  not  first  been  clearly  explained ;  the 
other,  in  never  advancing  any  proposition  which  could  not  be 
demonstrated  by  truths  already  known ;  that  is,  in  a  word,  in 
defining  every  term,  and  in  proving  every  proposition.  But 
to  follow  the  same  order  that  I  am  explaining,  it  is  necessary 
that  I  should  state  what  I  mean  by  definition. 

The  only  definitions  recognized  in  geometry  are  what  the 
logicians  call  definitions  of  name,  that  is,  the  arbitrary  applica- 
tion of  names  to  things  which  are  clearly  designated  by  terma 
perfectly  known  ;  and  it  is  of  these  alone  that  I  speak. 

Their  utility  and  use  is  to  elucidate  and  abbreviate  dis- 
course, in  expressing  by  the  single  name  that  has  been  im- 
posed what  could  otherwise  be  only  expressed  by  several 
terms ;  so  that  nevertheless  the  name  imposed  remains  di- 
vested of  all  other  meaning,  if  it  has  any,  having  no  longer 
any  than  that  for  which  it  is  alone  designed.  Here  is  an  ex- 
ample : 

If  we  are  under  the  necessity  of  discriminating  numbers 
that  are  divisible  equally  by  two  from  those  which  are  not,  in 
order  to  avoid  the  frequent  repetition  of  this  condition,  a  name 
is  given  to  it  in  this  manner :  I  call  every  number  divisible 
equally  by  two,  an  even  number. 

This  is  a  geometrical  definition ;  because  after  having  clear- 
ly designated  a  thing,  namely,  every  number  divisible  equally 

we  see  by  experience  that  among  equal  minds  and  like  circumstances,  he 
who  possesses  geometry  bears  it  away,  and  acquires  a  new  vigor. 

"  I  wish,  therefore,  to  explain  what  demonstrations  are  by  the  example 
of  those  of  geometry,  which  is  almost  the  only  one  of  the  human  sciences 
that  produces  infallible  ones,  because  she  alone  observes  the  true  method, 
whilst  all  the  others  are,  through  a  natural  necessity,  in  a  sort  of  confusion, 
which  the  geometricians  alone  know  exceedingly  well  how  to  compre- 
hend." 

On  the  margin  of  this  fragment  is  in  the  MS.  the  following  note :  "  That 
which  is  in  small  characters  was  hidden  under  a  paper,  the  edges  of  which 
were  glued,  and  upon  which  was  w«..tton  the  article  beginning:  I  cannot 
better  explain,  etc." — Fauglrt. 


528  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

by  two,  we  give  it  a  name  divested  of  ever}  other  meaning,  if 
it  has  any,  in  order  to  give  it  that  of  the  thing  designated. 

Hence  it  appears  that  definitions  are  very  arbitrary,  and 
that  they  are  never  subject  to  contradiction  ;  for  nothing  is 
more  permissible  than  to  give  to  a  thing  which  has  been  clear- 
ly designated,  whatever  name  we  choose.  It  is  only  necessary 
to  take  care  not  to  abuse  the  liberty  that  we  possess  of  im- 
posing names,  by  giving  the  same  to  two  different  things. 

Not  that  this  may  not  be  permissible,  provided  we  do  not 
confound  the  consequences,  and  do  not  extend  them  from  the 
one  to  the  other. 

But  if  we  fall  into  this  error,  we  can  oppose  to  it  a  sure 
and  infallible  remedy  :  that  of  mentally  substituting  the  defini- 
tion in  the  place  of  the  thing  defined,  and  of  having  the  defi- 
nition always  so  present,  that  every  time  we  speak,  for  example, 
of  an  even  number,  we  mean  precisely  that  which  is  divisible 
into  two  equal  parts,  and  that  these  two  things  should  be  in 
such  a  degree  joined  and  inseparable  in  thought,  that  as  soon 
as  the  discourse  expresses  the  one,  the  mind  attaches  it  imme- 
diately to  the  other.  For  geometricians,  and  all  those  who 
proceed  methodically,  only  impose  names  on  things  to  abbre- 
viate discourse,  and  not  to  diminish  or  change  the  idea  of  the 
things  of  which  they  are  discoursing.  And  they  pretend  that 
the  mind  always  supplies  the  full  definition  to  the  concise 
terms,  which  they  only  employ  to  avoid  the  confusion  occa- 
sioned by  the  multitude  of  words. 

Nothing  more  promptly  and  more  effectually  removes  the 
captious  cavils  of  sophists  than  this  method,  which  it  is  neces- 
sary to  have  always  present,  and  which  alone  suffices  to  banish 
all  kinds  of  difficulties  and  equivocations. 

These  things  being  well  understood,  I  return  to  the  explana- 
tion of  the  true  order,  which  consists,  as  I  have  said,  in  de- 
fining every  thing  and  in  proving  every  thing. 

This  method  would  certainly  be  beautiful,  but  it  is  absolute- 
.y  impossible ;  for  it  is  evident  that  the  first  terms  that  we 
wished  to  define  would  imply  precedents  to  serve  for  their  ex- 
planation, and  that  in  the  same  manner,  the  first  proposition* 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  529 

that  we  wished  to  prove  would  imply  others  which  had  pre- 
ceded them ;  and  thus  it  is  clear  that  we  should  never  reach 
the  first. 

Thus,  in  pushing  our  researches  further  and  further,  we  ar- 
rive necessarily  at  primitive  words  which  can  no  longer  be 
defined,  and  at  principles  so  clear  that  we  can  find  no  others 
that  can  serve  as  a  proof  of  them. 

Hence  it  appears  that  men  are  naturally  and  immutably  im- 
potent to  treat  of  any  science  so  that  it  may  be  in  an  absolute- 
ly complete  order. 

But  it  does  not  thence  follow  that  we  should  abandon  every 
kind  of  order. 

For  there  is  one,  and  it  is  that  of  geometry,  which  is  in 
truth  inferior  in  that  it  is  less  convincing,  but  not  in  that  it  is 
less  certain.  It  does  not  define  every  thing  and  does  not 
prove  every  thing,  and  it  is  in  this  that  it  is  inferior ;  but  it  as- 
sumes nothing  but  things  clear  and  constant  by  natural  en- 
lightenment, and  this  is  why  it  is  perfectly  true,  nature  sus- 
taining it  in  default  of  discourse. 

This  order,  the  most  perfect  of  any  among  men,  consists  not 
at  all  in  defining  every  thing  or  in  demonstrating  every  thing, 
nor  in  defining  nothing  or  in  demonstrating  nothing,  but  in 
adhering  to  this  middle  course  of  not  defining  things  clear  and 
understood  by  all  mankind,  and  of  defining  the  rest ;  of  not 
proving  all  the  things  known  to  mankind,  and  of  proving  all 
the  rest.  Against  this  order  those  sin  alike  who  undertake  to 
define  every  thing  and  to  prove  every  thing,  and  who  neglect 
to  do  it  in  those  things  which  are  not  evident  of  themselves. 

This  is  what  is  perfectly  taught  by  geometry.  She  doe» 
not  define* any  of  these  things,  space,  time,  motion,  number, 
equal-iiy,  and  similar  things  which  exist  in  great  number,  be- 
cause these  terms  so  naturally  designate  the  things  that  they 
mean,  to  those  who  understand  the  language,  that  their  eluci- 
dation would  afford  more  obscurity  than  instruction. 

For  there  is  nothing  more  feeble  than  the  discourse  of  those 
who  wish  to  define  these  primitive  words.  What  necessity  is 
there,  for  example,  of  explaining  what  is  understood  by  the 

2:3 


530  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

word  man  ?  Do  we  not  know  well  enough  what  the  thing  ii 
that  we  wish  to  designate  by  this  term  ?  And  what  advantage 
did  Plato  think  to  procure  us  in  saying  that  he  was  a  two- 
legged  animal  without  feathers  ?  As  though  the  idea  that  I 
have  of  him  naturally,  and  which  I  cannot  express,  were  not 
clearer  and  surer  than  that  which  he  gives  me  by  his  useless 
and  even  ridiculous  explanation  ;  since  a  man  does  not  lose 
humanity  by  losing  the  two-  legs,  nor  does  a  capon  acquire  it 
by  losing  his  feathers. 

There  are  those  who  are  absurd  enough  to  explain  a  word 
by  the  word  itself.  I  know  some  who  have  defined  light  in 
this  wise  :  Light  is  a  luminary  movement  of  luminous  bodies* 
as  though  we  could  understand  the  words  luminary  and  lu- 
minous without  the  word  light.2 

We  cannot  undertake  to  define  being  without  falling  into 
the  same  absurdity  :  for  we  cannot  define  a  word  without  be- 
ginning with  the  word  it  ZA-,  either  expressed  or  understood 
To  define  being  therefore,  it  is  necessary  to  say  it  is,  and  thus 
to  employ  the  word  defined  in  the  definition. 

We  see  clearly  enough  from  this  that  there  are  some  words 
incapable  of  being  defined ;  and,  if  nature  had  not  supplied 
this  defect  by  a  corresponding  idea  which  she  has  given  to  all 
mankind,  all  our  expressions  would  be  confused ;  whilst  we  use 
them  with  the  same  assurance  and  the  same  certainty  as 
though  they  were  explained  in  a  manner  perfectly  exempt 
from  ambiguities ;  because  nature  herself  has  given  us,  with- 

1  Precisely  the  same  grammatical  error  is  in  the  original.  We  have 
translated  the  good  Father  Noel's  definition  of  light,  blunder  and  all. — Ed. 

s  Pascal  alludes  here  to  Father  Noel,  a  Jesuit,  with  whom  he  had  had  a 
warm  discussion  on  the  subject  of  his  Experiences  touchant^le  vide.  In  a 
tetter  that  he  wrote  to  Father  Noel  in  1647,  he  said :  "  The  sentence  which 
precedes  your  closing  compliments  defines  light  in  these  terms :  Light  is 
a  luminous  motion  of  rays  composed  of  lucid,  that  is,  lumiitous  bodies  /  upon 
which,  I  have  to  tell  you  that  it  seems  to  me  that  you  ought  first  to  have 
defined  what  luminous  is,  and  what  a  lucid  or  luminous  body  is,  for  till 
then,  I  cannot  understand  what  light  is.  And  as  we  never  make  use  in 
definitions  of  the  term  of  the  thing  defined,  I  should  have  difficulty  in  con- 
forming to  yours  which  says :  Light  is  a  luminary  motion  of  a  luminoiu 
body." — Favflre. 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  531 

out  words,  a  clearer  knowledge  of  them  than  art  could  acquire 
by  our  explanations. 

It  is  not  because  all  men  have  the  same  idea  of  the  essence 
of  the  things  that  I  say  that  it  is  impossible  and  useless  to 
define. 

For,  for  example,  time  is  of  this  sort.  Who  can  define  it? 
And  why  undertake  it,  since  all  men  conceive  what  is  meant 
in  speaking  of  time,  without  any  further  definition  ?  Never- 
theless there  are  many  different  opinions  touching  the  essence 
of  time.  Some  say  that  it  is  the  movement  of  a  created  thing ; 
others,  the  measure  of  the  movement,  etc.  Thus  it  is  not  the 
nature  of  these  things  that  I  say  is  known  to  all ;  it  is  simply 
the  relation  between  the  name  and  the  thing ;  so  that  at  the 
expression  time,  all  direct  their  thoughts  towards  the  same  ob- 
ject ;  which  suffices  to  cause  this  term  to  have  no  need  of 
being  defined,  though  afterwards,  in  examining  what  time  is, 
we  come  to  differ  in  sentiment  after  having  been  led  to  think 
of  it ;  for  definitions  are  only  made  to  designate  the  thingt 
that  are  named,  and  not  to  show  the  nature  of  them. 

It  is  not  because  it  is  not  permissible  to  call  by  the  name  of 
time  the  movement  of  a  created  thing ;  for,  as  I  have  just  said, 
nothing  is  more  arbitrary  than  definitions. 

But  after  this  definition  there  will  be  two  things  that  will 
be  called  by  the  name  of  time:  the  one  is  what  the  whole 
world  understands  naturally  by  this  word  and  what  all  those 
who  speak  our  language  call  by  this  term ;  the  other  will  be 
the  movement  of  a  created  thing,  for  this  will  also  be  called 
-  by  this  name,  according  to  this  new  definition. 

It  is  necessary  therefore  to  shun  ambiguities  and  not  to  con- 
found consequences.  For  it  will  not  follow  from  this  that  the 
thing  th'at  is  naturally  understood  by  the  word  time  is  in  fact 
the  movement  of  a  created  thing.  It  has  been  allowable  to 
name  these  two  things  the  same ;  but  it  will  not  be  to  make 
them  agree  in  nature  as  well  as  in  name. 

Thus,  if  we  advance  this  proposition — time  is  the  movement  of 

Ka  created  thing,  it  is  necessary  to  ask  what  is  meant  by  this  word 

time,  that  is,  whether  the  usual  and  generally  received  meaning 


532  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

is  left  to  it,  or  whether  it  is  divested  of  this  meaning  in  order  to 
give  to  it  on  this  occasion  that  of  the  movement  of  a  created 
thing.  For  if  it  be  stripped  of  all  other  meaning,  it  cannot  be 
contradicted,  and  it  will  become  an  arbitrary  definition,  in  con 
sequence  of  which,  as  I  have  said,  there  will  be  two  things 
that  will  have  the  same  name.  But  if  its  ordinary  meaning 
be  left  to  it,  and  it  be  pretended  nevertheless  that  what  is 
meant  by  this  word  is  the  movement  of  a  created  thing,  it  can 
be  contradicted.  It  is  no  longer  an  arbitrary  definition,  but  a 
proposition  that  must  be  proved,  if  it  is  not  evident  of  itself ; 
and  this  will  then  be  a  principle  or  an  axiom,  but  never  a  defi- 
nition, since  in  this  enunciation  it  is  not  understood  that  the 
word  time  signifies  the  same  thing  as  the  movement  of  a  created 
thing,  but  it  is  understood  that  what  is  conceived  by  the  term 
time  is  this  supposed  movement. 

If  I  did  not  know  how  necessary  it  is  to  understand  this 
perfectly,  and  how  continually  occasions  like  this,  of  which  I 
give  the  example,  happen  both  in  familiar  and  scientific  dis- 
courses, I  should  not  dwell  upon  it.  But  it  seems  to  me,  by 
the  experience  that  I  have  had  from  the  confusion  of  contro- 
versies, that  we  cannot  too  fully  enter  into  this  spirit  of  pre- 
cision, for  the  sake  of  which  I  write  this  treatise  rather  than 
the  subject  of  which  I  treat  in  it. 

For  how  many  persons  are  there  who  fancy  that  they  have 
defined  time,  when  they  have  said  that  it  is  the  measure  of 
movement,  leaving  it,  however,  its  ordinary  meaning !  And 
nevertheless  they  have  made  a  proposition  and  not  a  definition. 
How  many  are  there,  in  the  like  manner,  who  fancy  that  they 
have  defined  movement,  when  they  have  said :  Motus  nee  sirn- 
pliciter  motus,  non  mera  potentia  est,  sed  actus  entis  in  poten- 
tia !  And  nevertheless,  if  they  leave  to  the  word  movement 
its  ordinary  meaning  as  they  do,  it  is  not  a  definition  but  a 
proposition ;  and  confounding  thus  the  definitions  which  they 
call  definitions  of  namt,  which  are  the  true  arbitrary  definitions 
permissible  and  geometrical,  with  thoso  which  they  call  defini~ 
nitions  of  thing,  which,  properly  speaking,  are  not  at  all  arbi- 
trary definitions,  but  are  subject  to  contradiction,  they  hold 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  533 

themselves  at  liberty  to  make  these  as  well  as  others :  and 
each  defining  the  same  things  in  his  own  way,  by  a  liberty 
which  is  as  unjustifiable  in  this  kind  of  definitions  as  it  is  per- 
missible in  the  former,  they  perplex  every  thing,  and  losing  all 
order  and  all  light,  become  lost  themselves  and  wander  into 
inextricable  embarrassments. 

We  shall  never  fall  into  such  in  following  the  order  of  ge- 
ometry. This  judicious  science  is  far  from  defining  such  prim- 
itive words  as  space,  time,  motion,  equality,  majority,  diminu- 
tion, whole,  and  others  which  every  one  understands.  But 
tpart  from  these,  the  rest  of  the  terms  that  this  science  em- 
ploys are  to  such  a  degree  elucidated  and  defined  that  we  have 
DO  need  of  a  dictionary  to  understand  any  of  them  ;  so  that  in 
&  word  all  these  terms  are  perfectly  intelligible,  either  by  nat- 
ural enlightenment  or  by  the  definitions  that  it  gives  of  them. 

This  is  the  manner  in  which  it  avoids  all  the  errors  that 
may  be  encountered  upon  the  first  point,  which  consists  in  de- 
fining only  the  things  that  have  need  of  it.  It  makes  use  of 
it  in  the  same  manner  in  respect  to  the  other  point,  which 
consists  in  proving  the  propositions  that  are  not  evident. 

For,  when  it  has  arrived  at  the  first  known  truths,  it  pauses 
there  and  asks  whether  they  are  admitted,  having  nothing 
clearer  whereby  to  prove  them ;  so  that  all  that  is  proposed 
by  geometry  is  perfectly  demonstrated,  either  by  natural  en- 
lightenment or  by  proofs. 

Hence  it  comes  that  if  this  science  does  not  define  and  dem- 
onstrate every  thing,  it  is  for  the  simple  reason  that  this  is 
.•mpossible.1 

It  will  perhaps  be  found  strange  that  geometry  does  not 
Jefine  any  of  the  things  that  it  has  for  its  principal  objects: 
tor  it  can  neither  define  motion,  numbers,  nor  space ;  and 
nevertheless  these  three  things  are  those  of  which  it  treats  in 


-  Here  the  MS.  adds  in  parenthesis :  "  (But  aa  nature  punishes  all  that 
science  does  not  bestow,  its  order  in  tr\th  does  not  give  a  superhuman 
perfection,  but  it  has  all  that  maji  can  attain.  It  has  seemed  to  me  proper 
lo  give  from  the  beginning  of  this  diseoui-se  this,  etc.)." — Faugert. 


534  PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES. 

particular,  and  according  to  the  investigation  of  which  it  takes 
the  three  different  names  of  mechanics,  arithmetic,  and  geom- 
etry, this  last  name  belonging  to  the  genus  and  species. 

But  this  will  not  surprise  us  if  we  remark  that,  this  admirable 
science  only  attaching  itself  to  the  simplest  things,  this  same 
quality  which  renders  them  worthy  of  being  its  objects  renders 
them  incapable  of  being  defined ;  so  that  the  lack  of  definition 
is  a  perfection  rather  than  a  defect,  since  it  does  not  come 
from  their  obscurity,  but  on  the  contrary  from  their  extreme 
obviousness,  which  is  such  that  though  it  may  not  have  the 
conviction  'of  demonstrations,  it  has  all  their  certainty.  It  sup- 
poses therefore  that  we  know  what  is  the  thing  that  is  under- 
stood by  the  words  motion,  number,  space  ;  and  without  stop- 
ping to  define  them  to  no  purpose,  it  penetrates  their  nature 
and  discovers  their  marvellous  properties. 

These  three  things  which  comprehend  the  whole  universe, 
according  to  the  words :  Deus  fecit  omnia  in  pondere,  in  nu- 
mero,  et  mensura*  have  a  reciprocal  and  necessary  connection. 
For  we  cannot  imagine  motion  without  something  that  moves ; 
and  this  thing  being  one,  this  unity  is  the  origin  of  all  num- 
bers ;  and  lastly,  motion  not  being  able  to  exist  without  space, 
we  see  these  three  things  included  within  the  first. 

Time  even  is  also  comprehended  in  it ;  for  motion  and  time 
are  relative  to  each  other ;  speed  and  slowness,  which  are  tho 
differences  of  motion,  having  a  necessary  relation  to  time. 

Thus  there  are  properties  common  to  all  these  things,  the 
knowledge  of  which  opens  the  mind  to  the  greatest  marvels 
of  nature. 

The  chief  of  these  comprehends  the  two  infinitudes  which 
are  combined  in  every  thing :  the  one  of  greatness  the  other 
of  littleness. 

For  however  quick  a  movement  may  be,  we  can  conceive  of 
ane  still  more  so ;  and  so  on  ad  infinitum,  without  ever  reach- 
-og  one  that  would  be  swift  to  such  a  degree  that  nothing 
more  could  be  added  to  it  And,  on  the  contrary,  howevei 

1  Sap.,  3d,  21.  Omnia  wi  mensura,  et  nvmero,  et  pondere.  disposuitti. 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  535 

slow  a  movement  may  be,  it  can  be  retarded  still  more  ;  and 
thus  ad  injinitum,  without  ever  reaching  such  a  degree  of 
slowness  that  we  could  not  thence  descend  into  an  infinite 
number  of  others,  without  falling  into  rest. 

In  the  same  manner,  however  great  a  number  may  be,  we 
can  conceive  of  a  greater ;  and  thus  ad  infinilum,  without  ever 
reaching  one  that  can  no  longer  be  increased.  And  on  the 
contrary,  however  small  a  number  may  be,  as  the  hundredth 
or  ten  thousandth  part,  we  can  still  conceive  of  a  less ;  and  so 
on  ad  infinitum,  without  ever  arriving  at  zero  or  nothingness. 

However  great  a  space  may  be,  we  can  conceive  of  a  great- 
er ;  and  thus  ad  infinitum,  without  ever  arriving  at  one  which 
can  no  longer  be  increased.  And,  on  the  contrary,  however 
small  a  space  may  be,  we  can  still  imagine  a  smaller ;  and  so 
on  ad  infinitum,  without  ever  arriviticr  at  one  indivisible,  which 
has  no  longer  any  extent. 

It  is  the  same  with  time.  We  can  always  conceive  of  a 
greater  without  an  ultimate,  and  of  a  less  without  arriving  at 
a  point  and  a  pure  nothingness  of  duration. 

That  is,  in  a  word,  whatever  movement,  whatever  number, 
whatever  space,  whatever  time  there  may  be,  there  is  always 
a  greater  and  a  less  than  these :  so  that  they  all  stand  be- 
twixt nothingness  and  the  infinite,  being  always  infinitely  dis- 
tant from  these  extremes. 

All  these  truths  cannot  be  demonstrated  ;  and  yet  they  are 
the  foundations  and  principles  of  geometry.  But  as  the  cause 
that  renders  them  incapable  of  demonstration  is  not  their  ob- 
•curity,  but  on  the  contrary  their  extreme  obviousness,  this 
lack  of  proof  is  not  a  defect,  but  rather  a  perfection. 

From  which  we  see  that  geometry  can  neither  define  objects 
i.or  "prove  principles ;  but  for  this  single  and  advantageous 
,-eason  that  both  are  in  an  extreme  natural  clearness,  which 
convinces  reason  more  powerfully  than  discourse. 

For  what  is  more  evident  than  this  truth,  that  a  number 
whatever  it  may  be,  can  be  'nc^eased — can  be  doubled  ?  Again, 
may  not  the  speed  of  a  movement  be  doubled,  and  may  not  a 
space  be  doubled  in  tbe  same  manner? 


536  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

And  who  too  can  doubt  that  a  number,  whatever  it  may  be, 
may  not  be  divided  into  a  half,  and  its  half  again  into  another 
half?  For  would  this  half  be  a  nothingness  ?  And  would 
these  two  halves,  which  would  be  two  fceros,  compose  a  num- 
ber? 

In  the  same  manner,  may  not  a  movement,  however  slow  it 
may  be,  be  reduced  in  speed  by  a  half,  so  that  it  will  pass  over 
the  same  space  in  double  the  time,  and  this  last  movement 
again  ?  For  would  this  be  a  perfect  rest  ?  And  would  these 
two  halves  of  velocity,  which  would  be  two  rests,  compose 
again  the  first  velocity  ? 

Lastly,  may  not  a  space,  however  small  it  may  be,  be  divided 
into  two,  and  these  halves  again  ?  And  how  could  these  two 
halves  become  indivisible  without  extent,  which  joined  togeth- 
er made  the  former  extent  ? 

There  is  no  natural  knowledge  in  mankind  that  precedes 
this,  and  surpasses  it  in  clearness.  Nevertheless,  in  order  that 
there  may  be  examples  for  every  thing,  we  find  minds,  excellent 
in  all  things  else,  that  are  shocked  by  these  infinities  and  can 
in  no  wise  assent  to  them. 

I  have  never  known  any  person  who  thought  that  a  space 
could  not  be  increased.  But  I  have  seen  some,  very  capable 
in  other  respects,  who  affirmed  that  a  space  could  be  divided 
into  two  indivisible  parts,  however  absurd  the  idea  may  seem. 

I  have  applied  myself  to  investigating  what  could  be  the 
jause  of  this  obscurity,  and  have  found  that  it  chiefly  consisted 
in  this,  that  they  could  not  conceive  of  a  continuity  divisible 
ad  infinitum,  whence  they  concluded  that  it  was  not  divisible. 

It  is  an  infirmity  natural  to  man  to  believe  that  he  possesses 
truth  directly  ;  and  thence  it  comes  that  he  is  always  disposed 
to  deny  every  thing  that  is  incomprehensible  to  him ;  whilst 
in  fact  he  knows  naturally  nothing  but  falsehood,  and  whilst  ae 
Dught  to  receive  as  true  only  those  things  the  contrary  of  which 
appear  to  him  as  false. 

And  hence,  whenever  a  proposition  is  inconceivable,  it  is 
necessary  to  suspend  the  judgment  on  it  and  not  to  deny  it 
from  this  indication,  but  to  examine  its  opposite ;  and  if  thi» 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  537 

is  found  to  be  manifestly  false,  we  can  boldly  affirm  the  former, 
however  incomprehensible  it  may  be.  Let  us  apply  this  rule 
to  our  subject. 

There  is  no  geometrician  that  does  not  believe  space  divisi- 
ble ad  iiifinitum.  He  can  no  more  be  such  without  this  prin- 
ciple than  man  can  exist  without  a  soul.  And  nevertheless 
there  is  none  who  comprehends  an  infinite  division ;  and  he 
only  assures  himself  of  this  truth  by  this  one,  but  certainly  suf- 
ficient reason,  that  he  perfectly  comprehends  that  it  is  false 
that  by  dividing  a  space  we  can  reach  an  indivisible  part,  that 
is,  one  that  has  no  extent. 

For  what  is  there  more  absurd  than  to  pretend  that  by  con- 
tinually dividing  a  space,  we  shall  finally  arrive  at  such  a  di 
vision  that  on  dividing  it  into  two,  each  of  the  halves  shall  re- 
main indivisible  and  without  any  extent,  and  that  thus  these 
two  negations  of  extensions  will  together  compose  an  extent? 
For  I  would  ask  those  who  hold  this  idea,  whether  they  con- 
ceive clearly  two  indivisibles  being  brought  into  contact ;  if 
this  is  throughout,  they  are  only  the  same  thing,  and  conse- 
quently the  two  together  are  indivisible ;  and  if  it  is  not 
throughout,  it  is  then  but  in  a  part ;  then  they  have  parts, 
therefore  they  are  not  indivisible. 

If  they  confess,  as  in  fact  they  admit  when  pressed,  that 
their  proposition  is  as  inconceivable  as  the  other,  they  ac- 
knowledge that  it  is  not  by  our  capacity  for  conceiving  these 
things  that  we  should  judge  of  their  truth,  since  these  two 
contraries  being  both  inconceivable,  it  is  nevertheless  neces- 
sarily certain  that  one  of  the  two  is  true. 

But  as  to  these  chimerical  difficulties,  which  have  relation 
only  to  our  weakness,  they  oppose  this  natural  clearness  and 
these  solid  truths :  if  it  were  true  that  space  was  composed 
vf  a  certain  finite  number  of  indivisibles,  it  would  follow  that 
two  spaces,  each  of  which  should  be  square,  that  is,  equal  and 
similar  on  every  side,  being  the  one  the  double  of  the  other, 
the  one  would  contain  a  number  of  these  indivisibles  double 
the  number  of  the  indivisibles  of  the  other.  Let  them  bear 
fchi*  consequence  well  in  mind,  a  id  let  them  then  apply  them- 

23° 


538  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

selves  to  ranging  points  in  squares  until  they  shall  have  formed 
two,  the  one  of  which  shall  have  double  the  points  of  the  other ; 
and  then  I  will  make  every  geometrician  in  the  world  yield  to 
them.  But  if  the  thing  is  naturally  impossible,  that  is,  if  it 
is  an  insuperable  impossibility  to  range  squares  of  points,  the 
one  of  which  shall  have  double  the  number  of  the  other,  as  I 
would  demonstrate  on  the  spot  did  the  thing  merit  that  we 
should  dwell  on  it,  let  them  draw  therefrom  the  consequence. 

And  to  console  them  for  the  trouble  they  would  have  in 
certain  junctures,  as  in  conceiving  that  a  space  may  have  an 
infinity  of  divisibles,  seeing  that  these  are  run  over  in  so  little 
time  during  which  this  infinity  of  divisibles  would  be  run  over, 
we  must  admonish  them  that  they  should  not  compare  things 
so  disproportionate  as  is  the  infinity  of  divisibles  with  the  little 
time  in  which  they  are  run  over :  but  let  them  compare  the 
entire  space  with  the  entire  time,  and  the  infinite  divisibles  of 
the  space  with  the  infinite  moments  of  the  time ;  and  thus 
they  will  find  that  we  pass  over  an  infinity  of  divisibles  in  an 
infinity  of  moments,  and  a  little  space  in  a  little  time ;  in  which 
there  is  no  longer  the  disproportion  that  astonished  them. 

Lastly,  if  they  find  it  surprising  that  a  small  space  has  as 
many  parts  as  a  great  one,  let  them  understand  also  that  they 
are  smaller  in  measure,  and  let  them  look  at  the  firmament 
through  a  diminishing  glass,  to  familiarize  themselves  with  this 
knowledge,  by  seeing  every  part  of  the  sky  in  every  part  of 
the  glass. 

But  if  they  cannot  comprehend  that  parts  so  small  that  to 
us  they  are  imperceptible,  can  be  divided  as  often  as  the  firma- 
ment, there  is  no  better  remedy  than  to  make  them  look 
through  glasses  that  magnify  this  delicate  point  to  a  prodi- 
gious mass ;  whence  they  will  easily  conceive  that  by  the  aid 
of  another  glass  still  more  artistically  cut,  they  could  be  mag- 
nified so  as  to  equal  that  firmament  the  extent  of  which  they 
admire.  And  thus  these  objects  appearing  to  them  now  easily 
divisible,  let  them  remember  that  nature  can  do  infinitely  more 
than  art. 

For,  in  fine,  who  has  assured  them  that  these  glasses  change 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  539 

the  natural  magnitude  of  these  objects,  instead  of  re-establish- 
ing, on  the  contrary,  the  true  magnitude  which  the  shape  of 
our  eye  may  change  and  contract  like  glasses  that  diminish  ? 

It  is  annoying  to  dwell  upon  such  trifles ;  but  there  are 
times  for  trifling. 

It  suffices  to  say  to  minds  clear  on  this  matter  that  two 
negations  of  extension  cannot  make  an  extension.  But  as 
there  are  some  who  pretend  to  elude  this  light  by  this  mar- 
vellous answer,  that  two  negations  of  extension  can  as  well 
make  an  extension  as  two  units,  neither  of  which  is  a  number, 
can  make  a  number  by  their  combination ;  it  is  necessary  to 
reply  to  them  that  they  might  in  the  same  manner  deny  that 
twenty  thousand  men  make  an  army,  although  no  single  one 
of  them  is  an  army ;  that  a  thousand  houses  make  a  town, 
although  no  single  one  is  a  town ;  or  that  the  parts  make  the 
whole,  although  no  single  one  is  the  whole ;  or,  to  remain  in  the 
comparison  of  numbers,  that  two  binaries  make  a  quaternary, 
and  ten  tens  a  hundred,  although  no  single  one  is  such. 

But  it  is  not  to  have  an  accurate  mind  to  confound  by  such 
unequal  comparisons  the  immutable  nature  of  things  with  their 
arbitrary  and  voluntary  names,  names  dependent  upon  the 
caprice  of  the  men  who  invented  them.  For  it  is  clear  that  to 
facilitate  discourse  the  name  of  army  has  been  given  to  twenty 
thousand  men,  that  of  town  to  several  houses,  that  of  ten  to 
ten  units;  and  that  from  this  liberty  spring  the  names  of 
unity,  binary,  quaternary,  ten,  hundred,  different  through  our 
caprices,  although  these  things  may  be  in  fact  of  the  same 
kind  by  their  unchangeable  nature,  and  are  all  proportionate 
to  each  other  and  differ  only  in  being  greater  or  less,  and 
although,  as  a  result  of  these  names,  binary  may  not  be  a 
quaternary,  nor  the  house  a  town,  any  more  than  the  town  is 
a  house.  But  again,  although  a  house  is  not  a  town,  it  is  not 
however  a  negation  of  a  town ;  there  is  a  great  difference  be- 
tween not  being  a  thing,  and  being  a  negation  of  it. 

For,  in  order  to  understand  the  thing  to  the  bottom,  it  is 
necessary  to  know  that  the  oniy  reason  why  unity  is  not  in 
the  rank  of  numbers,  is  that  Euclid  and  the  earliest  authors 


640  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

who  treated  of  arithmetic,  having  several  properties  to  give 
that  were  applicable  to  all  the  numbers  except  unity,  in  order 
to  avoid  often  repeating  that  in  all  numbers  except  unity  this 
condition  is  found,  have  excluded  unity  from  the  signification 
of  the  word  number,  by  the  liberty  which  we  have  already  said 
can  be  taken  at  will  with  definitions.  Thus,  if  they  had 
wished,  they  could  in  the  same  manner  have  excluded  tho 
binary  and  ternary,  and  all  else  that  it  pleased  them ;  for  we 
are  master  of  these  terms,  provided  we  give  notice  of  it ;  as 
on  the  contrary  we  may  place  unity  when  we  like  in  the 
rank  of  numbers,  and  fractions  in  the  same  manner.  And, 
in  fact,  we  are  obliged  to  do  it  in  general  propositions,  to 
avoid  saying  constantly,  that  in  all  numbers,  as  well  as  in 
unity  and  in  fractions,  such  a  property  is  found  •  and  it  is  in 
this  indefinite  sense  that  I  have  taken  it  in  all  that  I  have 
written  on  it. 

But  the  same  Euclid  who  has  taken  away  from  unity  the 
name  of  number,  which  it  was  permissible  for  him  to  do,  in 
order  to  make  it  understood  nevertheless  that  it  is  not  a  nega- 
tion, but  is  on  the  contrary  of  the  same  species,  thus  defines 
homogeneous  magnitudes :  Magnitudes  are  said  to  be  of  the 
same  kind,  when  one  being  multiplied  several  times  may  exceed 
the  other ;  and  consequently,  since  unity  can,  being  multiplied 
several  times,  exceed  any  number  whatsoever,  it  is  precisely  of 
the  same  kind  with  numbers  through  its  essence  and  its  im- 
mutable nature,  in  the  meaning  of  the  same  Euclid  who  would 
not  have  it  called  a  number. 

It  is  not  the  same  thing  with  an  indivisible  in  respect  to  an 
extension.  For  it  not  only  differs  in  name,  which  is  voluntary, 
but  it  differs  in  kind,  by  the  same  definition ;  since  an  indivisible, 
multiplied  as  many  times  as  we  like,  is  so  far  from  being  able 
iO  exceed  an  extension,  that  it  can  never  form  any  thing  else 
than  a  single  and  exclusive  indivisible ;  which  is  natural  arid 
necessary,  as  has  been  already  shown.  And  as  this  last  proof 
is  founded  upon  the  definition  of  these  two  things,  indivisible 
and  extension,  we  will  proceed  to  finish  and  perfect  the  demon 
itration. 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  541 

An  indivisible  is  that  which  has  no  part,  and  extension  is 
that  which  has  divers  separate  parts. 

According  to  these  definitions,  I  affirm  that  two  indivisibles 
united  do  not  make  an  extension. 

For  when  they  are  united,  they  touch  each  other  in  some 
[tart ;  and  thus  the  parts  whereby  they  come  in  contact  are 
not  separate,  since  otherwise  they  would  not  touch  each  other. 
Now,  by  their  definition,  they  have  no  other  parts ;  therefore 
the}  have  no  separate  parts ;  therefore  they  are  not  an  exten- 
sion by  the  definition  of  extension  which  involves  the  separa- 
tion of  parts. 

The  same  thing  will  be  shown  of  all  the  other  indivisibles 
that  may  be  brought  into  junction,  for  the  same  reason.  And 
consequently  an  indivisible,  multiplied  as  many  times  as  we 
like,  will  not  make  an  extension.  Therefore  it  is  not  of  the 
same  kind  as  extension,  by  the  definition  of  things  of  the  same 
kind. 

It  is  in  this  manner  that  we  demonstrate  that  indivisibles 
are  not  of  the  same  species  as  numbers.  Hence  it  arises  that 
two  units  may  indeed  make  a  number,  because  they  are  of  the 
same  kind ;  and  that  two  indivisibles  do  not  make  an  exten- 
sion, because  they  are  not  of  the  same  kind. 

Hence  we  see  how  little  reason  there  is  in  comparing  tho 
relation  that  exists  between  unity  and  numbers  with  that 
which  exists  between  indivisibles  and  extension. 

But  if  we  wish  to  take  in  numbers  a  comparison  that  repre- 
sents with  accuracy  what  we  are  considering  in  extension,  this 
must  be  the  relation  of  zero  to  numbers  ;  for  zero  is  not  of  the 
same  kind  as  numbers,  since,  being  multiplied,  it  cannot  ex- 
ceed them :  so  that  it  is  the  true  indivisibility  of  number,  as 
indivisibility  is  the  true  zero  of  extension.  And  a  like  one 
will  "be  found  between  rest  and  motion,  and  between  an  in- 
stant and  time ;  for  all  these  things  are  heterogeneous  in  their 
magnitudes,  since  being  infinitely  multiplied,  they  can  never 
make  any  thing  else  than  indivisibles,  any  more  than  the  indi- 
visibles of  extension,  and  for  the  same  reason.  And  then  we 
thai!  find  a  perfect  correspondence  between  these  things ;  for 


54:2  PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES. 

all  these  magnitudes  are  divisible  ad  inftnitum,  without  ever 
falling  into  their  indivisibles,  so  that  they  all  hold  a  middle 
place  between  infinity  and  nothingness. 

Such  is  the  admirable  relation  that  nature  has  established 
between  these  things,  and  the  two  marvellous  infinities  which 
she  has  proposed  to  mankind,  not  to  comprehend,  but  to  ad- 
mire ;  and  to  finish  the  consideration  of  this  by  a  last  remark, 
I  will  add  that  these  two  infinites,  although  infinitely  different, 
are  notwithstanding  relative  to  each  other,  in  such  a  manner 
that  the  knowledge  of  the  one  leads  necessarily  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  other. 

For  in  numbers,  inasmuch  as  they  can  be  continually  aug- 
mented, it  absolutely  follows  that  they  can  be  continually 
diminished,  and  this  clearly ;  for  if  a  number  can  be  multi- 
plied to  100,000,  for  example,  100,000th  part  can  also  be 
taken  from  it,  by  dividing  it  by  the  same  number  by  which  it 
is  multiplied ;  and  thus  every  term  of  augmentation  will  be- 
come a  term  of  division,  by  changing  the  whole  into  a  frac- 
tion. So  that  infinite  augmentation  also  includes  necessarily 
infinite  division. 

And  in  space  the  same  relation  is  seen  between  these  two 
contrary  infinites ;  that  is,  that  inasmuch  as  a  space  can  be  in- 
finitely prolonged,  it  follows  that  it  may  be  infinitely  dimin- 
ished, as  appears  in  this  example  :  If  we  look  through  a  glasa 
at  a  vessel  that  recedes  continually  in  a  straight  line,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  any  point  of  the  vessel  observed  will  continually 
advance  by  a  perpetual  flow  in  proportion  as  the  ship  recedes. 
Therefore  if  the  course  of  the  vessel  is  extended  ad  injinitum, 
this  point  will  continually  recede ;  and  yet  it  will  never  reach 
that  point  in  which  the  horizontal  ray  carried  from  the  eye  to 
die  glass  shall  fall,  so  that  it  will  constantly  approach  it  without 
ever  reaching  it,  unceasingly  dividing  the  space  which  will  re- 
main under  this  horizontal  point  without  ever  arriving  at  it. 
From  which  is  seen  the  necessary  conclusion  that  is  drawn 
from  the  infinity  of  the  extension  of  the  course  of  the  vessel  to 
the  infinite  and  infinitely  minute  division  of  this  little  spac« 
temainiiig  beneath  this  horizontal  point. 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  543 

Those  who  will  not  be  satisfied  with  these  reasons,  and  will 
persist  in  the  belief  that  space  is  not  divisible  ad  infinitum^ 
can  make  no  pretensions  to  geometrical  demonstrations,  and 
although  they  may  be  enlightened  in  other  things,  they  will 
be  very  little  in  this ;  for  one  can  easily  be  a  very  capable 
man  and  a  bad  geometrician. 

But  those  who  clearly  perceive  these  truths  will  be  able  to 
admire  the  grandeur  and  power  of  nature  in  this  double  infini- 
ty that  surrounds  us  on  all  sides,  and  to  learn  by  this  marvel- 
lous consideration  to  know  themselves,  in  regarding  themselves 
thus  placed  between  infinitude  and  a  negation  of  extension, 
between  an  infinitude  and  a  negation  of  number,  between  an 
infinitude  and  a  negation  of  movement,  between  an  infinitude 
and  a  negation  of  time.  From  which  we  may  learn  to  esti- 
mate ourselves  at  our  true  value,  and  to  form  reflections  which 
will  be  worth  more  than  all  the  rest  of  geometry  itself. 

I  have  thought  myself  obliged  to  enter  into  this  long  dis- 
cussion for  the  benefit  of  those  who,  not  comprehending  at  first 
this  double  infinity,  are  capable  of  being  persuaded  of  it.  And 
although  there  may  be  many  who  have  sufficient  enlighten- 
ment to  dispense  with  it,  it  may  nevertheless  happen  that  this 
discourse  which  will  be  necessary  to  the  one  will  not  be  en- 
tirely useless  to  the  other. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  TREATISE  OX  VACUUM.1 

THE  respect  that  we  bear  to  antiquity  is  at  the  present  day 
carried  to  such  a  point  on  subjects  in  which  it  ought  to  have 


1  Published  for  the  first  time  by  Bossnt,  who  entitled  it,  we  know  not 
fc  by  :  De  Vautoriti  en  matirre  de  p  kilo/top  hit.  This  piece,  says  M.  Cousin, 
seems  a  fragment  of  the  Disc&urs  de  la  Metliode,  so  deeply  is  it  penetrated 
with  the  spirit  of  Descartes.  It  turns  on  the  essential  Cartesian  distinction 
between  philosophy  and  theology,  in  the  one  of  which  authority  is  admis- 
sible, since  it  admits  of  no  innovations ;  in  the  other  of  which  authority  is 
t  misconception,  since  it  sees  perpetual  d:j>covcries.  .  .  .  Later,  and  In  tha 


544  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

less  weight,  that  oracles  are  made  of  all  its  thoughts  and  mys- 
teries, even  of  its  obscurities ;  that  novelties  can  no  longer  be 
advanced  without  peril,  and  that  the  text  of  an  author  suffices 
to  destroy  the  strongest  reasons ' 

Not  that  it  is  my  intention  to  correct  one  error  by  another, 
and  not  to  esteem  the  ancients  at  all  because  others  have 
esteemed  them  too  much. 

I  do  not  pretend  to  banish  their  authority  in  order  to  exalt 
reasoning  alone,  although  others  have  sought  to  establish  their 
authority  alone  to  the  prejudice  of  reasoning2 


Thoughts,  Pascal  treats  neither  Descartes  nor  philosophy  with  this  respect. 
I  suspect  that  this  fragment  belongs  to  that  epoch  in  which  Pascal  was 
wholly  occupied  with  the  sciences,  about  the  time  of  the  letter  to  M.  le 
Pailleur,  sur  le  vide,  of  that  to  M.  Ribeyre,  letters  which  are  of  the  years 
1647  and  1651.  These  are  the  same  principles  and  the  same  tone,  at  once 
grave  and  animated.  This  little  treatise  therefore  is  not  in  our  manuscript. 
It  was  published  first  by  Bossut,  who  does  not  say  from  what  he  had 
taken  it. 

Bossut  had  subjected  the  text  to  numerous  alterations,  necessitated  in 
.some  sort  by  the  arbitrary  title  that  he  had  adopted,  and,  besides,  had  not 
indicated  the  manuscript  from  which  he  had  made  the  publication.  M. 
Faugere  has  restored  the  text  and  title  in  conformity  with  the  manuscript 
of  Father  Guerrier. 

"It  is  nothing  less,"  says  M.  Faugere,  ''than  a  preface  to  a  Treatise  on 
Vacuum.  It  appears  that  this  latter  work  exists  no  longer ;  at  least  it  haa 
not  been  discovered,  and  Pascal  may  never  have  put  the  finishing  touch  to 
it.  M.  Perier  thus  refers  to  it  in  the  notice  preceding  the  narrative  repub- 
lished  by  him  in  1663  of  the  celebrated  experiment  of  the  Puy-de-D6me: 
'  The  treatise  that  is  mentioned  in  several  passages  of  this  relation  is  a 
great  treatise  composed  by  M.  Pascal  respecting  Vacuum,  which  has  been 
lost,  and  of  which  only  the  few  fragments  here  produced  have  been  dis- 
covered.' The  fragments  mentioned  by  M.  Perier  arc  printed  at  the  end 
of  the  Traite  sur  V  Equillbre  des  liqueurs  et  la  pesanteur  de  Pair.  We  have 
found  another  very  short  fragment  in  the  MS.  autograph  of  the  Tlwights. 
As  to  the  epoch  in  which  the  Treatise  on  Vacuum  was  composed,  we  bee  in 
two  letteis  of  Pascal,  the  one  to  M.  Perier  concerning  the  experiment  ol 
the  Puy-de-D6me,  and  the  other  to  M.  de  Ribeyre,  that  he  had  already 
commenced  the  work  it  1647,  and  was  engaged  in  its  completion  in  Idol. 
The  preface  must  have  been  written  in  this  interval,  and  probably  to- 
vards  1651." 

We  republish  here  the  excellent  text  of  M.  Faugere. 

i  There  is  a  blank  here  of  about  ten  linos. — Aott  by  Father  Guerrier. 

*  Break  of  two  lines,—  JMd. 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  545 

To  make  this  important  distinction  with  care,  it  is  necessary 
to  consider  that  the  former  depend  solely  on  memory  and  are 
purely  historical,  having  nothing  for  their  object  except  to 
know  what  the  authors  have  written  ;  the  latter  depend  solely 
on  reasoning  and  are  entirely  dogmatic,  having  for  their  object 
to  seek  and  discover  concealed  truths. 

Those  of  the  former  kind  are  limited,  inasmuch  as  the  books 
in  which  they  are  contained1 . .  f 

It  is  according  to  this  distinction  that  we  must  regulate  dif- 
ferently the  extent  of  this  respect.  The  respect  that  we  should 
have  for2 

In  matters  in  which  we  only  seek  to  know  what  the  authors 
have  written,  as  in  history,  geography,  jurisprudence,  lan- 
guages,3 and  especially  in  theology ;  and  in  fine  in  all  those 
which  have  for  their  principle  either  simple  facts  or  divine 
or  human  institutions,  we  must  necessarily  have  recourse  to 
their  books,  since  all  that  we  can  know  of  them  is  therein 
contained ;  hence  it  is  evident  that  we  can  have  full  knowl- 
edge of  them,  and  that  it  is  not  possible  to  add  any  thing 
thereto. 

If  it  is  in  question  to  know  who  was  the  first  king  of  the 
French  ;  in  what  spot  geographers  place  the  first  meridian ; 
what  words  are  used  in  a  dead  language,  and  all  things  of  this 
nature  ;  what  other  means  than  books  can  guide  us  to  them  ? 
And  who  can  add  any  thing  new  to  what  they  teach  us,  since 
we  wish  only  to  know  what  they  contain  ? 

Authority  alone  can  enlighten  us  on  these.  But  the  sub- 
ject in  which  authority  has  the  principal  weight  is  theology, 
because  there  she  is  inseparable  from  truth,  and  we  know  it 
only  through  her  :  so  that  to  give  full  certainty  to  matters  in~ 
comprehensible  to  reason,  it  suffices  to  show  them  in  the 
eacred  books ;  as  to  show  the  uncertainty  of  the  most  probable 
things,  it  is  only  necessary  tu  show  that  they  are  not  included 


1  A  break. — Fauyere. 

*  Two  lines. — Note  by  Father  Gutrrier. 

•  After  the  word  languages,  there  is  a  brehk  of  a  TOIX!  or  two. — Fbugire, 


546  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

therein  ;  tsince  its  principles  are  superior  to  nature  and  reason, 
and  since,  the  mind  of  mail  being  too  weak  to  attain  them  by 
its  own  efforts,  he  cannot  reach  these  lofty  conceptions  if  he 
be  not  carried  thither  by  an  omnipotent  and  superhuman 
power. 

It  is  not  the  same  with  subjects  that  fall  under  the  senses 
and  under  reasoning ;  authority  here  is  useless ;  it  belongs  to 
reason  alone  to  know  them.  They  have  their  separate  rights : 
there  the  one  has  all  the  advantage,  here  the  other  reigns  in 
turn.  But  as  subjects  of  this  kind  are  proportioned  to  the 
grasp  of  the  mind,  it  finds  full  liberty  to  extend  them ;  its  in- 
exhaustible fertility  produces  continually,  and  its  inventions 
may  be  multiplied  altogether  without  limit  and  without  inter- 
ruption1  

It  is  thus  that  geometry,  arithmetic,  music,  physics,  medi- 
cine, architecture,  and  all  the  sciences  that  are  subject  to  ex- 
periment and  reasoning,  should  be  augmented  in  order  to  be- 
come perfect.  The  ancients  found  them  merely  outlined  by 
those  who  preceded  them ;  and  we  shall  leave  them  to  those 
who  will  come  after  us  in  a  more  finished  state  than  we  re- 
ceived them. 

As  their  perfection  depends  on  time  and  pains,  it  is  evident 
that  although  our  pains  and  time  may  have  acquired  less  than 
their  labors  separate  from  ours,  both  joined  together  must 
nevertheless  have  more  effect  than  each  one  alone. 

The  clearing  up  of  this  difference  should  make  us  pity  the 
blindness  of  those  who  bring  authority  alone  as  proof  in  physi- 
cal matters,  instead  of  reasoning  or  experiments ;  and  inspire 
us  with  horror  for  the  wickedness  of  others  who  make  use  of 
reasoning  alone  in  theology,  instead  of  the  authority  of  the 
Scripture  and  the  Fathers.  We  must  raise  the  courage  Oi 
thosi  timid  people  who  dare  invent  nothing  in  physics,  and 
confound  the  insolence  of  those  rash  persons  who  produce 
novelties  in  theology.  Nevertheless  the  misfortune  of  the  age 
is  such,  that  we  see  many  new  opinions  in  theology,  unknown 

1  A  break. 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  54:7 

to  all  antiquity,  maintained  with  obstinacy  and  receh  ed  with  ap- 
plause ;  whilst  those  that  are  produced  in  physics,  though  small 
in  number,  should,  it  seems,  be  convicted  of  falsehood  as  soon 
as  they  shock  already  received  opinions  in  the  slightest  de- 
gree ;  as  if  the  respect  that  we  have  for  the  ancient  philoso- 
phers were  a  duty,  and  that  which  we  bear  to  the  most  ancient 
of  the  Fathers  solely  a  matter  of  courtesy  !  I  leave  it  to  judi- 
cious persons  to  remark  the  importance  of  this  abuse  which 
perverts  the  order  of  the  sciences  with  so  much  injustice;  and 
I  think  that  there  will  be  few  who  will  not  wish  that  this 
liberty '  might  be  applied  to  other  matters,  since  new  inven- 
tions are  infallible  errors  in  the  matters2  which  we  profane 
with  impunity ;  and  since  they  are  absolutely  necessary  for 
the  perfection  of  so  many  other  subjects  incomparably  lower, 
which  nevertheless  we  dare  not  approach. 

Let  us  divide  our  credulity  and  suspicion  with  more  justice, 
and  limit  this  respect  we  have  for  the  ancients.  As  reason 
gives  it  birth,  she  ought  also  to  measure  it ;  and  let  us  con- 
sider that  if  they  had  continued  in  this  restraint  of  not  daring 
to  add  any  thing  to  the  knowledge  which  they  had  received, 
or  if  those  of  their  times  had  made  the  like  difficulty  in  re- 
ceiving the  novelties  which  they  offered  them,  they  would 
have  deprived  themselves  and  their  posterity  of  the  fruit  o>f 
their  inventions. 

As  they  only  made  use  of  that  which  had  been  bequeathed 
to  them  as  a  means  whereby  to  gain  more,  and  as  this  happy 
daring  opened  to  them  the  way  to  great  things,  we  should 
take  that  which  they  acquired  in  the  same  manner,  and  by 
their  example,  make  of  it  the  means  and  not  the  end  of  our 
Btudy,  and  thus  strive  while  imiiating  to  surpass  them. 

For  what  is  more  unjust  than  to  treat  our  ancestors  with 
more  deference  than  they  showed  to  those  who  preceded 
them,  and  to  have  for  them  that  inviolable  respect  which 


1  The  word  here  underlined,  which  we  restore  by  conjecture,  is  blank  it 
the  MS. — Faugere. 
a  Here  seems  to  be  needed  theological  matters.— 1M. 


548  PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES. 

they  have  only  merited  from  us  because  they  had  not  the  like 
for  those  who  possessed  the  same  advantage  over  them  ?'.... 

The  secrets  of  nature  are  concealed ;  although  she  is  con- 
tinually working,  we  do  not  always  discover  her  effects :  time 
reveals  them  from  age  to  age,  and  although  always  alike  in 
herself  she  is  not  always  alike  known. 

The  experiments  that  give  us  the  knowledge  of  these  secret* 
are  multiplied  continually ;  and  as  they  are  the  sole  principles 
of  physics,  the  consequences  are  multiplied  in  proportion. 

It  is  in  this  manner  that  we  may  at  the  present  day  adopt 
different  sentiments  and  new  opinions,  without  despising  the 
ancients  and1  without  ingratitude,  since  the  first  knowledge 
which  they  have  given  us  has  served  as  a  stepping-stone  to 
our  own,  and  since  in  these  advantages  we  are  indebted  to 
them  for  our  ascendency  over  them ;  because  being  raised  by 
their  aid  to  a  certain  degree,  the  slightest  effort  causes  us  to 
mount  still  higher,  and  with  less  pains  and  less  glory  we  find 
ourselves  above  them.  Thence  it  is  that  we  are  enabled  to 
discover  things  which  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  perceive. 
Our  view  is  more  extended,  and  although  they  knew  as  well 
as  we  all  that  they  could  observe  in  nature,  they  did  not,  nev- 
ertheless, know  it  so  well,  and  we  see  more  than  they. 

Yet  it  is  marvellous  in  what  manner  their  sentiments  are 
revered.  It  is  made  a  crime  to  contradict  them  and  an  act  of 
treason  to  add  to  them,  as  though  they  had  left  no  more  truths 
to  be  known. 

Is  not  this  to  treat  unworthily  the  reason  of  man  and  to  put 
it  on  a  level  with  the  instinct  of  animals,  since  we  take  away 
the  principal  difference  between  them,  which  is  that  the  effects 
of  reason  accumulate  without  ceasing,  whilst  instinct  remains 
always  in  the  same  state  ?  The  cells  of  the  bees  were  as  cor- 
rectly measured  a  thousand  years  ago  as  to-day,  and  each 
formed  a  hexagon  as  exactly  the  first  time  as  the  last.  It  is 


>  Break  of  five  or  six  lines. — Note  by  Father  Guerrier. 
»  Break  of  two  or  three  words  in  the  MS.    We  supply  them  by  th« 
words  underlined.  -Faugere. 


PASCAL. —  OPUSCULES.  549 

.  *ame  with  all  that  the  animals  produce  by  this  occult 
impulse.  Nature  instructs  them  in  proportion  as  necessity 
impels  them  ;  but  this  fragile  science  is  lost  with  the  wants 
which  give  it  birth :  as  they  received  it  without  study,  they 
have  not  the  happiness  of  preserving  it ;  and  every  time  it  is 
given  them  it  is  new  to  them,  since  the '  .  .  .  .  nature  having 
for  her  object  nothing  but  the  maintenance  of  animals  in  a 
limited  order  of  perfection,  she  inspires  them  with  this  neces- 
Bary  science*  ....  always  the  same,  lest  they  may  fall  into 
decay,  and  does  not  permit  them  to  add  to  it,  lest  they  should 
exceed  the  limits  that  she  has  prescribed  to  them.  It  is  not 
the  same  with  man,  who  is  formed  only  for  infinity.  He  is 
ignorant  at  the  earliest  age  of  his  life ;  but  he  is  instructed  un- 
ceasingly in  his  progress ;  for  he  derives  advantage,  not  only 
from  his  own  experience,  but  also  from  that  of  his  predeces- 
sors ;  since  he  always  retains  in  his  memory  the  knowledge 
which  he  himself  has  once  acquired,  and  since  he  has  that  of 
the  ancients  ever  present  in  the  books  which  they  have  be- 
queathed to  him.  And  as  he  preserves  this  knowledge,  he 
can  also  add  to  it  easily  ;  so  that  men  are  at  the  present  day 
in  some  sort  in  the  same  condition  in  which  those  ancient 
philosophers  would  have  been  found,  could  they  have  survived 
till  the  present  time,  adding  to  the  knowledge  which  they  pos- 
sessed that  which  their  studies  would  have  acquired  by  the 
aid  of  so  many  centuries.  Thence  it  is  that  by  an  especial 
prerogative,  not  only  does  each  man  advance  from  day  to  day 
m  the  sciences,  but  all  mankind  together  make  continual  prog- 
ress in  proportion  as  the  world  grows  older,  since  the  same 
thing  happens  in  the  succession  of  men  as  in  the  different 
ages  of  single  individuals.  So  that  the  whole  succession  of 
men,  during  the  course  of  many  ages,  should  be  considered  as 
a  single  man  who  subsists  forever  and  learns  continually , 
whence  we  see  with  what  injustice  we  respect  antiquity  in 
philosophers  ;  for  as  old  age  is  that  period  of  life  most  remote 
from  infancy,  who  does  not  see  that  old  age  in  this  universal 


1  Here  is  a  word  omitted. — Faugert.  *  Ibid. 


550  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

man  ought  not  to  be  sought  in  the  times  nearest  his  birth,  but 
in  those  the  most  remote  from  it  ?  Those  whom  we  call  an- 
cient were  really  new  in  all  things,  and  properly  constituted 
the  infancy  of  mankind  ;  and  as  we  have  joined  to  their  knowl- 
edge the  experience  of  the  centuries  which  have  followed 
them,  it  is  in  ourselves  that  we  should  find  this  antiquity  that 
i?e  revere  in  others. 

They  should  be  admired  for  the  results  which  they  derived 
from  the  very  few  principles  they  possessed,  and  they  should  be 
excused  for  those  in  which  they  failed  rather  from  the  lack  oi 
the  advantage  of  experience  than  the  strength  of  reasoning. 

For  were  they  not  excusable  in  the  idea  that  they  entertained 
of  the  milky  way,  when,  the  weakness  of  their  vision  not  hav- 
ing yet  received  the  assistance  of  art,  they  attributed  this  color 
to  a  greater  density  in  that  part  of  the  heavens  which  reflected 
the  light  more  strongly  ?  But  would  we  not  be  inexcusable 
for  remaining  in  the  same  opinion,  now  that,  by  the  aid  of  the 
advantages  procured  us  by  the  telescope,  we  have  discovered 
in  it  an  infinite  number  of  small  stars,  whose  more  abundant 
splendor  has  revealed  to  us  the  true  cause  of  this  whiteness  1 

Had  they  not  also  cause  for  saying  that  all  corruptible 
bodies  were  inclosed  within  the  orbit  of  the  moon,  when,  dur- 
ing the  course  of  so  many  ages  they  had  not  yet  remarked 
either  corruption  or  generation  outside  of  this  space  ? 

But  ought  we  not  to  be  assured  of  the  contrary,  when  the 
whole  world  has  manifestly  beheld  comets  kindle '  and  disap- 
j«ar  far  beyond  the  limits  of  that  sphere  ? 

In  the  same  way,  in  respect  to  vacuum,  they  had  a  right  to 
say  that  nature  would  not  suffer  it,  since  all  their  experiments 
had  always  made  them  remark  that  she  abhorred,  and  could 
not  suffer  it. 

But  il  the  modern  experiments  had  been  known  to  them, 
perhaps  they  would  have  found  cause  for  affirming  what  they 
found  cause  for  denying,  for  the  reason  that  vacuum  had  not 

1  The  true  nature  of  comets  was  still  unknown  in  the  time  of  I'ascal. — 
l»<tlt  in  BotsuPs  edition. 


PASCAL. OPUSCULES.  551 

yet  appeared.  Thus,  in  the  judgment  they  formed  that  nature 
would  not  suffer  vacuum,  they  only  heard  nature  spoken  of 
in  the  condition  in  which  they  knew  her ;  since,  to  speak  in 
general  terms,  it  would  not  have  been  sufficient  to  have  seen 
it  constantly  in  a  hundred  cases,  a  thousand,  or  any  other 
number,  however  great  it  may  have  been ;  since,  if  a  single 
case  remained  unexamined,  this  alone  would  suffice  to  prevent 
the  general  definition,  and  if  a  single  one  was  contrary,  this 

alone ' 

For  in  all  matters  the  proof  of  which  consists  in  experiments, 
and  not  in  demonstrations,  we  can  make  no  universal  assertion, 
except  by  the  general  enumeration  of  all  the  parts  and  all  the 
different  cases.  Thus  it  is  that  when  we  say  that  the  diamond 
is  the  hardest  of  all  bodies,  we  mean  of  all  the  bodies  with 
which  we  are  acquainted,  and  we  neither  can  nor  ought  to 
comprehend  in  this  assertion  those  with  which  we  are  not 
acquainted ;  and  when  we  say  that  gold  is  the  heaviest  of  all 
bodies,  we  should  be  presumptuous  to  comprehend  in  this 
general  proposition  those  which  have  not  yet  come  to  our 
knowledge,  although  it  is  not  impossible  that  they  may  exist 
in  nature. 

In  the  same  manner,  when  the  ancients  affirmed  that  na- 
ture would  not  suffer  a  vacuum,  they  meant  that  she  would 
not  suffer  it  in  any  of  the  experiments  they  had  seen,  and  they 
could  not,  without  temerity,  comprehend  in  it  those  which 
had  not  come  to  their  knowledge.  Had  they  done  so,  they 
would  doubtless  have  drawn  from  them  the  same  conclusions, 
and  would,  by  their  acknowledgment,  have  sanctioned  them 
by  this  antiquity  which  it  is  sought  at  present  to  make  the 
*ole  principle  of  the  sciences. 

Thus  it  is  that,  without  contradicting  them,  we  can  affirn 
/he  contrary  of  what  they  say;  and,  whatever  authority,  in 
\ine,  this  antiquity  may  have,  truth  should  always  have  more, 
although  newly  discovered,  since  she  is  always  older  than  all 
the  opinions  that  we  have  had  of  her,  and  it  would  be  show- 

1  Two  lines.— Note  by  Father  ffverrier. 


552  PASCAL. OPUSCULES. 

ing  ourselves  ignorant  of  her  nature  to  imagine  that  she  may 
have  begun  to  be  at  the  time  when  she  began  to  be  known. 


NEW  FRAGMENT  OF  THE  TREATISE  ON  VACUUM. 

WHAT  is  there  more  absurd  than  to  say  that  inanimate 
bodies  have  passions,  fears,  horrors;  that  insensible  bodies, 
without  life,  and  even  incapable  of  it,  may  have  passions  which 
presuppose  a  soul  at  least  sensitive  to  experience  them  ?  Be- 
sides, if  the  object  of  this  horror  were  a  vacuum,  what  is  there 
in  a  vacuum  that  could  make  them  afraid  ?  What  is  there 
meaner  and  more  ridiculous  ? 

This  is  not  all ;  if  they  have  in  themselves  a  principle  of 
motion  to  shun  a  vacuum,  have  they  arms,  legs,  muscles, 
nerves? 


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